


Love The Way You Lie

by Taylor1990



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Branding, Drug Use, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, In-game Dialogue, Internal Conflict, Internal Dialogue, Kidnapping, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Other, POV Alternating, Pronoun overload, Psychological Trauma, Shakespeare, Slowest burn humanly possible, Smut, Spoilers, Stalking, Violence, canon-divergence, implied domestic abuse, lots of fluff, only a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 307,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylor1990/pseuds/Taylor1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I...I can't believe it," she hid the shock in her voice and on her face as they stood in the room.</p><p>Her eyes were fixated on the blue crib in front of her. She never signed up for this; it was never part of the plan.</p><p>“I know!” the curled smile on his face was unsettling, the smile that was keeping a million secrets from her. “A baby, isn’t it great? Someone to carry on my legacy. He’s the luckiest boy in the world,” he sounded sickeningly happy, as if it was perfectly normal to have a baby thrusted into her arms.</p><p>"That he is," she smiled, the most fake sincere smile she could muster. </p><p>Nathaniel was always a little unhinged but this was madness.</p><p>She looked down at the tiny baby in her arms and tugged him closer to her chest.</p><p><i>Shaun</i>. Said the embroidery on his blanket. Pre-named and pre-made.</p><p>She watched as his mouth opened just a tiny amount and he sighed out a silent yawn, his eyes opened for a split second and the sea of blue hit her. She had green eyes herself and she looked up to see Nathaniel’s hollow brown eyes look lovingly at her.</p><p><i>Where are your parents?</i><br/> </p><p>(Title Song: Love The Way You Lie by Eminem)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter is named after the song that inspired me to write it. Some go well with the chapter and others won't make any sense to you but music has always been extremely inspirational to me.
> 
> As you can tell by the tags, this is a fic about a growing romance between my SS and Deacon. Yeah, there's some things going on between her and MacCready, and yeah, I probably could have done this entire thing without the first ten chapters but my love for MacCready is what got me into fanfiction in the first place.
> 
> This story is _long_ and I mean really long. I hadn't intended it to go on for this long but this fic has gone through a lot of changes and has taken on a mind of its own. So you're in the wrong place if you're looking for a quick burn. Just to give you an idea, we're this many chapters in and they've still not got their act together...like I said, slow burn.
> 
> There will be badly google-translated languages in this, I'm just going to apologise for it all now. Y'all been warned!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great War never bothered her...until it ruined her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Rise - Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zk0Sr0C3yYM))

_Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them._

 

She wasn’t famous, a household name, or even the hero Billy had once described her as, she was simply the product of her upbringing; just like everyone else around her. At first, she was just a scared little girl stuck in an impossible situation, her only options were to comply or fight her way out and she couldn’t do the latter because she was too weak, too small then. So she stayed, did as she was told and eventually became the person everyone else wanted her to be.

World leaders and their governments were too busy fighting each other to pay attention to the wars going on in their own backyards, that was where she, and people like her, came in - cleaning up the messes they didn’t want the public to know about, it would cause too much panic was often the excuse. But this was why people like her existed in the first place, to contain the problem so people more important than herself could concentrate on bigger things — like blowing each other up.

If anything she liked to think she was fighting her own battle against the world, whilst they were trying to disrupt each other’s lives, she was secretly trying to keep the peace. Capturing and punishing the guilty whilst protecting and saving the innocent, it sure made her sound like a hero but it was never as black and white as that, never that straightforward. Right or wrong, good or evil, it didn’t matter, she just did what she was told.

There was no love in her childhood, no hugs or no kisses on the forehead when you got hurt, you simply had to brush yourself off and carry on, and the only tears that were shed were at night, when the other children would remember the life they once had. She never really had that problem, she was a soldier, she knew she wasn’t a child to be coddled and so she was tough, a loner but not exactly lonely. Everywhere she looked people were lying to each other, plotting against each other - ready to stab each other in the back at a moment’s notice - and whilst the others were almost begging to be part of a team, she preferred to work alone. She refused to let herself be disappointed when the inevitable happened, she wasn’t going to be betrayed and left in a ditch to choke on her own blood, so from a young age she made a promise; _the only person I can trust is myself_.

To live a life not feeling fear…or love…or any emotion really, sure it sounded good, to be cold, numb almost to the point of being indestructible but it wasn’t something she wished on anybody. It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and although she knew how to fake emotions, she never really felt them or even understood them. She recognised them certainly, the subtle difference between tears of sadness and those of joy. The flicker or tightening of eyelids that were the difference between surprise and anger, she recognised them all; even the ones people tried to hide.

She was taught to win, to lie and recognise the lies in other people and, like she did everything, she did it with absolute perfection. Whether it was something she inherited from her parents or the insecurities she had about her height that drove her to strive for perfection she would never know, but she told herself one thing; failure is not an option. She would always be the best. And she was, whether in training or out in the field, a battle of wits or a battle of weapons, it didn’t matter, she always outsmarted, outmanoeuvred and outwitted her opponent. She got every commendation and special assignment available and there was a moment in her life when she was actually proud of that.

Well, a part of her anyway.

Pretending to be someone different all the time, perfecting so many personalities, and not knowing who she was really was had eventually taken it’s toll and every now and then voices leaked inside her head - each with their own opinion, advice and most of them berating her for her actions. It often took her entire chem stash to lull them and give her some sense of normalcy; even if she didn’t know what that was. 

If she were able to, she’d go back and kill her commanding officers herself, with the skills they’d given her. It was their fault she was in this situation in the first place but if her surroundings, and the newly ‘acquired’ Pip-Boy on her wrist, were anything to go by, she would never get that chance. That world was over two-hundred years behind her.

She’d let that reality sink in later, she had to find Shaun. It was her mission now, not the original one given to her by some government official, but it had led to her own quest nonetheless. The kidnapping of that baby was the only reason she stepped out of the Vault in the first place, rather than living in solitary amongst the corpses of neighbours she never even liked. 

As soon as the door to her pod opened and she stepped out, the smell was the first thing to hit her, it was pungent, ripe and burnt her nose as she breathed. Death and decay filled the air. It was a smell that was familiar but after being stuck in suburbia for so long, she’d forgotten how gut wrenching it could be. Being the ‘perfect housewife’ had turned her soft.

She didn’t even bother to look inside the pod across from hers, the one that held her husband. An eidetic memory was a curse and a blessing at the same time. The memory played in her mind like an old film, the moment she first started to wake up, watching as a small group of people lifted the door to Nathaniel’s pod — the sound of the gunshot echoing around the room. She would never shed a tear over him, their marriage was simply a ring on her finger and a piece of paper.

Sanctuary Hills was a cesspit of crime masquerading as the quintessential suburban village and Nathaniel was their almighty leader and self-proclaimed king. But he wasn’t a king, he was just a business man — with his fingers in all sorts of questionable pies. Nathaniel was forty years her senior and whilst most people saw him as an old man she saw him as a dog that needed to be put down. He was a mean, well-connected, gang leader that had over half of Boston under his thumb and the idea was to make him think she was too. Four days and a plane journey across the Atlantic was all the time she had to study up on him and luckily for her, Nathaniel was a quick read, easy to figure out, and by the time her feet touched the tarmac of Boston airport she knew what he liked, what made him tick and she knew exactly how to make him fall in love with her. She never loved the old man, she felt no pity at his death because it was his fault Shaun had been kidnapped. Twice.

That representative from Vault-Tec had already been by a few days before and, whilst she was against the idea of being in a confined space with a man she loathed, Nathaniel was all for it and their names were quickly added to the register. She felt an uneasy twist in her stomach when Nathaniel was suddenly whispering in the man’s ear, bribing or threatening him; possibly both. She never liked any of the smiles he gave her; they were always hiding something.

She had done as much research on the Vault as time had permitted. If everything went perfectly and there was no outside intervention, human or otherwise, the odds of the Vault failing were one point eight million to one. The Vault, if properly maintained, had an expectancy of ninety-two point five years. Other than that, Vault-Tec didn’t have much else to say, especially about themselves; that was her first clue. Everything seemed too simple, too perfect. Where was the catch, the conditions that had to be met? She hacked into a few databases, breaking a law or two in the process, and found some schematics, real information on a few of it’s employees and a shit ton of cover-ups, the kind where big companies threw money at people to keep certain information out of the public record. But there was a record of everything that ever happened, the key was just finding it.

Nathaniel’s secret whispering still played on her mind, never taking precedence over her initial mission, because she wouldn’t let it, and he’d been acting off ever since - granted he was always a little unhinged but it was different this time - and it was definitely unsettling. Like pieces of a puzzle, everything clicked into place when he brought that kid home.

Nathaniel held the boy out for her to hold like he was a gift, a gift for her. The cold bastard had sent his number two, Able, to assassinate a rival gang lord. He shot the man in the back, shot his wife in the head and kidnapped their son.He’d never admit the truth to her knowingly of course — but she was better with a terminal than he gave her credit for — he simply said that because they couldn’t have a child of their own (she had lied) then he ‘found’ a baby who needed looking after.

“The house is not ready to house a baby, Nate,” she spoke calmly. The hand that wasn’t holding on to Shaun was digging its fingernails into her flesh to stop her from punching him in the face.

Two-seconds later a hoard of men rushed past, each carrying something into the spare room, removing its original furniture on the way out the house. Within ten minutes their spare room had been changed into a bedroom for the child. She knew they’d stolen everything from the house that child actually belonged in.

Whatever sliver of humanity he had left was gone now, he was just pure evil and it didn’t matter that he believed he had done it for her, she didn’t. She had to do something. She couldn’t let an innocent get in the middle of this, especially a baby. Brought up by a drug lord? Overtaking his empire when he proved himself? How would he ‘prove himself’ to Nathaniel? She could not sit back and watch a child become that, become like him. In a split second she had reached a decision of her own.

Nathaniel didn’t matter, the people of Sanctuary Hills and their shitty lives didn’t matter. Not even the mission mattered anymore. The only thing that did was saving that baby’s life. She spent the afternoon planning the entire thing, Shaun constantly in her sights, her 10mm silencer was buried somewhere just behind the garden and that night she was going to dig it up. There were bags packed and stashed away along with a spare set of keys Nathaniel didn’t know she had. He loved her and more importantly he trusted her.

_Idiot._

Of all people, Nathaniel should have known he couldn’t trust everyone and he definitely couldn’t trust her. But nothing she had planned ended up happening, that afternoon the sirens went off and the War had finally disrupted her life; in the biggest way possible. 

She kicked herself as Nathaniel reached Shaun before she could and they ran to the Vault. He was an old man, and he wasn’t even in the room, he wasn’t supposed to be able to move faster than her. If he hadn’t been holding Shaun she would have told the guard to shoot him, but it didn’t matter, they’d be underground; Nathaniel would be powerless and he’d be under constant watch...They’d both be. If Nathaniel was going to have to be on his best behaviour then so was she.

_But Shaun would be safe._

She found relief in Nathaniel’s death — a long ago given mission was essentially completed the moment his brain sprayed out against the back of his pod but her mission to save Shaun had just complicated tenfold. Nathaniel had taken him for her, why had these strangers taken him?

And why had that bald man, whoever he was, called her the back-up? If the kid was so special and they needed him for something then they were shit out of luck thinking she was the ‘back-up’ because they were of no relation at all, but then again they probably didn’t know that.

Some people just don’t understand how important a little research is.

* * * *

_This above all; to thine own self be true._

 

Just lie through your teeth to everyone else. He wasn’t even all that true to himself, he simply just accepted who he was; a liar. And a fantastic one at that.

He wasn’t really sure where it came from, it was something he’d always been able to do. The parents were the straightest arrows in the quiver so it didn’t come from them, probably came from a distant relation - maybe someone from before the War. Man, that would be cool.

He was the class clown, the joker, the guy to make you squirt milk out of your nose, but the wind made a sudden change when he was a young man, the laughter all but died and he became even more rebellious, to the point of being violent and then going so far over that point he couldn’t even see it anymore. Fell in with a bad crowd, then a badder crowd and eventually joined a gang, not a massive one but certainly big enough to attract attention and invoke a lot of fear.

UP Deathclaws they called themselves, he was older by the time they came along, not ancient but certainly old enough to know better. The ‘Claws had one mission; to drive synths back into the arms of their masters. But eventually even that mission was lost when it just became about causing havoc and he turned his back on them when he realised they’d (he’d) gone too far - they’d strayed from their path.

That had led to a few things, that led to another few things but it was hardly the time to go down that road, especially considering his location.

Curiosity killed the cat, people would often warn him, but it simply went in one ear and out the other, besides the prospect of certain death only made his blood run faster and the rush all that more enjoyable. Was it coincidence or fate? Carrington had told him the story of Vault 111 only last week and ever since then he could think of little else. The Institute was just a scary story back in the day, something you spoke about around a campfire to scare the pants off each other. Then he found the Railroad, or more accurately, the Railroad found him.

If someone had asked him when he was younger what he wanted to be he probably would have said mayor…or a super mutant. Because that’s the sort of shitty sense of humour he had. But of all the things he dreamt of, being a spy for a top secret organisation that’s sole purpose was to save synths was not anywhere on the list. 

After the ‘incident’ with the remaining Deathclaws, the Railroad found him a few weeks later - apparently the ‘Claws were at the top of the Railroad’s enemy list (right underneath the Institute of course - which was written in big red capital letters and underlined; repeatedly.) He thought they tracked him down to kill him at first because of his own involvement with the gang but evidently they didn’t know that little piece of information. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell them. 

Standing around waiting for nothing often caused him to daydream, or worse caused the voices to start, but every mechanical movement and vibration under his feet brought him back to the present and silenced his mind.

During his years of travelling he’d come across a lot of Vaults, most of them inaccessible or had people living in them, and, man, those vaulties were real picky about who they let in, but Vault 81 had unknowingly let him in a few times because he’d gotten very good at blending into the background and his tongue had gotten him out of a few sticky situations over the years, plus the vault suit he stole came in real handy.

But curiosity had eventually got the best of him and he made the long trek north to see Vault 111 for himself. The story goes, as Carrington tells it, an agent who had been tracking Kellogg, a mercenary known to work for the Institute, followed him all the way to the Vault and watched from a distance as the mercenary and his gang of thugs broke in. If the agent had been quick enough they’d have followed them inside, but no they had to sit back and watch as Kellogg and his gang tore back out of there, something smuggled underneath a blanket. He could curse the agent but in truth he wondered if he wouldn’t have done the same. Back then they still didn’t know much about the Institute.

He’d barely reached the top of the hill before he felt it, the ground shift under his feet. At first he thought he stood on a landmine but considering he didn’t blow up when he took a step forward he figured not. 

He headed for the control room, if it was functioning then maybe there was a chance the Vault wasn’t as inactive as everyone thought. None of the emergency panels were working but the small monitor on the table flickered with static, a few lucky smacks to the side and the screen came to life. Dozens of tiny images filled the screen and he was quick to realise that it was a live feed - which could only mean one thing; the Vault was functioning. Pressing a few buttons, and thinking happy thoughts, he flickered between each camera. There was a slight blur to each camera but he could see enough, there were no signs of life; save the radroach or two.

He was close to giving up, disappointed he got his hopes up for nothing, and leant forward to turn the screen off when he saw it. In the corner of camera sixty-three something moved, using the eidetic memory he often cursed, he quickly flicked back to a camera with a better angle.

He watched as someone stepped out of the pods that were _everywhere_ and at first he thought it was a kid, the blur on the camera wasn’t helping and the woman was rather on the short side. He flicked between cameras and watched her as she moved, mostly to make sure she made it out safely - not that he could do a damn thing if she did get in trouble. She stayed low, close to the walls like an expert, and he knew he was looking at a different breed of woman the moment he watched her kill a radroach with one punch. 

She was certainly handling the situation well, though not as well as she handled a gun. She one shot every radroach she came across, evidently a lot of them were out of camera range; it was either that or she was just shooting the walls. But he doubted the latter was true.

Was it his imagination or was she covered in ice? She seemed to be shivering a lot, although that could have just been the crappy reception of the monitor on which he was watching. He supposed he shouldn’t complain really, after two hundred years of neglect he was lucky to get this much.

Confident that she could handle herself just fine he set about making a plan, of course he wanted to stay and watch but he wanted to do it at a distance longer than the hundred yards he sat away from the entrance currently. She was probably witnessing the Commonwealth for the first time, most vaulties were born in them and knew nothing about the world above ground, it was something he couldn’t miss. 

Fate was definitely on his side when he found a brown suit in one of the crates, that just _happened_ to become unlocked, he quickly put it on and made for the hills to live amongst the trees, she’d be too busy looking at the destruction around her to look at the trees behind her. 

He’d never admit the rush he got from doing it, being hidden but in plain view. Who needs chems when you get to do this for a living? Seriously, if everyone just became a spy then the consumption of chems would decrease dramatically, he’d be doing the Commonwealth a favour really. He could set up his own business, maybe knock out a few walls in HQ so he could build himself an office. He’d need an assistant of course, when business started to boom and they needed to be able to use a gun. This woman would be perfect - maybe.

A violent hiss of air shattered the silence and he inhaled sharply. He held his breath as the vault opened and exhaled in surprise when long black hair and a blue vault suit came into view. Most vaulties fell to their knees when they saw the Commonwealth for the first time but not this one, legs sturdy, head poised and gun raised…Gun raised? That was a new one. He’d seen her use it of course, but no one ever left a vault ready to face action at the blink of an eye.

She wasn’t just a woman, she was a _woman_ , yeah a little disadvantaged in the height department but she made up for it with a fantastic figure, curves in all the right places. Even from this distance he could see enough, those vault suits really were a blessing sometimes. 

The security camera feed was definitely a piece of shit because here she was in technicolour, not in hazy black and white. She was definitely covered in ice because he could see some of it melting under the blistering heat. What the hell happened down there?

She turned and the light hit her perfectly, he berated himself for not bringing binoculars but decided a perfect silhouette of her face, and the odd green glint that nearly blinded him, was enough for now. 

He watched as she ran to the edge, rather than taking the dusty path down, and took a leap that made even his gut wrench, she tucked her knees in and rolled on to the flat ground before using the momentum to graciously stand on her feet. Ten out of ten. He watched as she ran out of sight. He etched an ‘ally’ sign into the tree before taking the much safer route down towards Sanctuary in the hopes of tracking her down.

_Time for a little recon…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first rewrote this I intended it to be shorter. It's not. It's a hell of a lot longer but I'm super happy about how it's turned out =]


	2. The World Belongs to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world has changed a lot over the last two hundred years, begrudgingly she knows she's going to need help. Help comes in the form of a tiny, young mercenary.
> 
> And Deacon can't stop following her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like the first chapter, we've gone through another overhaul, and yes, it's longer...again.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [The World Belongs To Me - My Darkest Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWGtSGM34wc))

  _Hell must be empty, for all the devils are here._

 

Given the size of the cockroaches that found their way inside Vault 111, she knew a lot had changed about the world, after all there was no way it was going to be the same after everyone blew it up, but nothing could have quite prepared her for her new reality.

Radioactive fumes had acted like any other pathogen, making their way into the circulatory system and reconstructing DNA right at the atom. The world had started off easy on her, two-headed cows and deer she could handle, it was almost funny, but mole rats were certainly more vicious now they were ten times bigger.

If she had taken the path, instead of the more risky shortcut she did take, then maybe she would have taken two minutes to look around Sanctuary and maybe find some answers to the mission she’d destroyed her life for. But there was no real need, other than to quench her curiosity, the mission was over and the place was never her home, she never had a life there, there was nothing - no job, no marital obligation - keeping her there anymore.

She ran towards the old truck stop, not once looking behind her, in order to find the supplies she’d stashed away, hoping that they had withstood the test of time. The universe was obviously apologising for throwing her two-hundred years into the future because the weapons she’d hidden in the air vent still looked almost new and her own black jumpsuit was in perfect condition. Strictly speaking it wasn’t _her_ suit but she could never resist looking at things she knew she shouldn’t be and, even if it wasn’t in good repair, anything was better than the vibrant blue ‘hey look at me’ jumpsuit that Vault-Tec made her put on when she stepped into the vault. The suit was a prototype, self-repairing material that apparently turned the wearer invisible when they stood still, how could she not take it? 

A good soldier, if not a bit rebellious was how she was often described because, whilst it was her job to say yes, yes sir, there were certain commands or ‘suggestions’ that she didn’t agree with. Different missions required different weapons, different outfits and, whilst she agreed with the latter, she only ever used a sniper rifle or two pistols and she only used two for the sake of symmetry.

She was sixteen when she received her first, and only, sniper rifle. It was a good weapon, did the job, but lacked a certain…something and, whilst everyone else was happy to use their weapons as they were given to them, she always found room for improvement. After months spent fixing and modding it, it was finally unique and something she was proud of. She had to stifle the laugh that almost escaped her when she was asked what she was going to call it. Members of the human race, particularly those with a certain appendage hanging between their legs, seemed hellbent on naming every inanimate object they owned and her commanding officers had been no different. In fact, they practically insisted she name every weapon they gave her. Armour piercing rounds that tracked their target, there was only one thing she could call it; Relentless. She felt a swell of pride when her commanding officer gave his approval.

The two 10mm pistols she received less than six months later went through the same treatment, both modded and improved as far as she abilities would allow. ‘Fire’ and ‘Fury’ -one pistol equipped with rounds that exploded, with a chance to cause harm to anyone within four feet of the explosion, and the other let off two rounds at a time. Sure, it meant that she had to reload twice as much (which was ‘kindly’ pointed out to her) but she compensated by switching to a larger magazine and a different barrel. 

She tossed away the pistol she picked up inside the vault with no sense of sentiment and quickly equipped her own weapons. Just having Relentless on her back and Fire and Fury holstered to her thighs made her feel more relaxed, more like herself - even if she didn’t like, or even know, who that was. 

She wasn’t really sure where she was going, her feet were moving of their own accord and the rest of her was just obediently following. If the people who took Shaun had managed to find their way into a sealed vault then they definitely had a plan, they wouldn’t be travelling blindly like she was, they’d have a base. She needed to find some sign of civilisation.

She was beginning to imagine she was the only person left in Boston, possibly the entire world. Being alone during a mission was one thing, being the sole survivor of a nuclear holocaust might skew differently. But she’d handle it just fine, like she did everything.

If she ever imagined what hell looked like, the world now probably wasn’t that far off. The dog she met (well, more rescued) back at Red Rocket was growling at what she first assumed had been a fellow human being and whilst at one moment in history they probably were like her, radiation had stripped away any ounce of humanity they had left. She’d seen creatures similar to this in a movie once, and they fitted the description of the people in that file she wasn’t supposed to be reading perfectly. 

It got worse the further into the city she travelled, the giant green creatures, that spoke like dimwitted children, had probably been human once too, and after witnessing first hand the world after a nuclear bomb, she found herself thinking about the people that launched the first attack. What had they hoped to gain from all this? What had been the point? 

Was she really going to have to rebuild the world on her own?

Her unvoiced question was answered the moment a bullet went flying past her, Dogmeat had already run off to where the shot had originated from by the time she turned around and she smiled when she saw his jaw locked around the leg of her assailant. A lot of people had reasons to shoot at her but they were most likely dead, what was this guy’s problem? Then she remembered how fickle the human race could be, back in the day it would have been rioters, but instead of breaking into shops and stealing merchandise, they were shooting people and looting the corpses.

_People do what they need to in order to survive_. She knew that better than anyone, she’d done some terrible things, unspeakable things in the name of self-preservation, but she’d never killed someone just because she could. She was cold-hearted but she wasn’t dead inside, not yet anyway.

She ripped the sunglasses and red bandana off the man’s face and, with a grimace, put them on her own. It wasn’t something she’d done before (and wasn't looking to repeat) but unless there were other vaults out there that had cryogenically frozen their occupants, she was the last of her kind. Which by definition meant she was one of a kind and that was the last thing she needed, she needed to be indistinguishable from the rest of the world. She found another dead body nearby, this corpse wearing a green bandana around his neck and was quick to give it to Dogmeat - the affectionate nudge he gave against her leg told her he liked it.

The first group of humans she came across, that weren’t trying to kill her, seemed to all be wearing baseball catcher uniforms. It wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d seen in her twenty-five years but it was definitely in the top ten, possibly top five.

When one of them directed her to a place called Diamond City, _just follow the signs_ , she realised they were guards. Made sense really, given that people had built a city inside a baseball stadium. What had become of the White House, the Pentagon for that matter?

Outside the stadium she met a black haired reporter and a man she had correctly asserted as the Mayor after the former insisted on dragging her into some kind of charade. She would have been quite capable of getting inside on her own, there’s nothing like a good “mother looking for her son” story to open a few doors but the woman was persistent.

She didn’t like the Mayor, she read him pretty quickly, a man obsessed with power, trying to silence the press and there was something else about him, something almost mechanical in his cold stare, his body showing little emotion. No human hid their emotions that well, except her, but she had had a lifetime of hard training. 

When she was finally able to break free from the squabbling pair she entered the gate and made her way down the stairs, the place was loud with the noise of people; of life. She wandered around the market for a while and had to admit it was pretty amazing. The human race, still prevailing after two hundred years of nuclear fallout. They’d made lives out of death; it was almost admirable.

Diamond City wore out its welcome pretty quickly, one loop of the market place and an asian lady accused her of being a synth (whatever the hell that was) and she left before she punched a man in the face for calling her a scavver (again, whatever that meant).

She regretted her decision to travel east before she even found the neon sign. She fell through a hole in the highway as it crumbled underneath her and twisted her ankle. She numbed the pain with a syringe of med-x but that didn’t help when her gun uncharacteristically jammed just as a mutant hound went to chew off her face. She felt like a recruit again, trying to get used to the new world around her, she was a fully fledged agent with almost a decade of field experience under her belt — she was better than that.

She was grateful to have Dogmeat at her side, especially in a world she was still getting accustomed to, because he saved her life, just as she did his when they first met. They were even and if she was going to trust anyone in this world it was going to be someone who wasn’t human and couldn’t speak — the ideal secret keeper.

Despite the almost alarming amount of blood coming from her and the fact her ankle had swollen to the size of a baseball, the high from being in the middle of action again was hard to ignore and she was enjoying the peak of her high when she stepped into the town of Goodneighbor for the first time, which didn’t exactly live up to its name.

Some bald thug in a leather jacket stopped her the second she stepped through the gate. 

“Hey, first time in Goodneighbor? Can’t have you going around without insurance,”

There were probably people out there that had fallen for that but in her job death was expected, there was no need for life insurance. 

_Please fuck off, I am not in the mood._

She must have looked weak, vulnerable, and the moron in front of her probably thought she was an easy target.

Her response had not pacified the man as she had hoped and she was about two seconds away from putting her gun in his face.

“Hand over everythin’ you got in them pockets or accidents start happenin’ to ya. Big, bloody, accidents .” 

_I’d like to see you try_.

“Woah, woah, woah, timeout,” came a voice from behind the thug that was moments away from getting his heart pulled out with her bare hands. “Someone steps through the gate the first time? They’re a guest. You lay off that extortion crap." He looked just like that creature she'd killed, only with his humanity still intact. She recognised his outfit immediately, even today John Hancock lived.

“What d’you care? She ain’t one of us,” the thug finally turned his back to her and walked towards the ghoulified man in the red coat and ruffle shirt; she wrapped her hand around her gun. He spat at the ground near his feet. The man dressed as Hancock was agitated, she noticed the shaking of his arms, it was taking a great deal of strength not to punch him. She admired him when he instead let out a short laugh, as if he couldn’t care less. 

“No love for your Mayor, Finn?” His eyes narrowed and his voice deepened just enough to show that he wasn’t to be taken lightly. “I said, let her go,” there was an unfamiliar warmth in her chest when he spoke, protecting a complete stranger, just as she would do if there were innocents involved. But she was no innocent.

“You’re soft, Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new Mayor in town.”

If this Hancock was the Mayor, this Finn character had overstepped a line, she pulled her gun out in front of her and took a step forward but stopped when, to her astonishment, the Mayor just laughed.

“Come on, man, this is me we’re talking about. Let me tell you somethin’,” he leaned in to Finn as if to whisper something and she saw him reach for the knife stashed in the back of his belt. 

He shot her a quick glance as he spun the blade in his hand and drove it deep into Finn’s chest twice in quick succession. When Hancock pulled the knife back a fountain of blood erupted and fell to the floor as Finn's lifeless body followed suit.

"Now why'd you have to go and say that, huh? Breakin' my heart over here." The ghoul then  begun to make his way to her. “Hey sorry about that, sister. Do you need a doctor?” He was quick to ask, noticing her injuries.

She shook her head and stated what she needed. A blood pack, a stimpack (or two), a needle and thread and some cloth. She’d been taught at the age of eight to look after her own injuries, even back then she knew she’d be on her own - there would be no one but her to help - so even if Hancock was being kind enough to offer his, she was never going to accept help. 

The pressure on her ankle was too much, she had to sit down.

“We’ve got a doctor ju-“ She cut him off with the raise of her hand.

She refused to get help with something she could fix herself, she’d patched herself up plenty of times whilst out in the field. A swollen ankle and a few cuts were nothing in comparison to putting an arm back in its rightful place. 

_Aww look at how he’s pitying you…you really must have done a shit job._

She couldn’t bare the look of sympathy on his face. 

Blood was running down her cheek, she could feel it, but there was no way she was taking her bandana and sunglasses off in front of these people. The point was to blend in, not stand out, so they weren’t coming off without a fight.

“Sure thing, sister. Listen if you’re planning on staying a while, which judging by the looks of ya…” his eyes scanned over her. “I’d recommend, the Hotel Rexford’s always got room. And check out The Third Rail. Best bar in the Commonwealth!” He called over to a nearby ghoul, told him what he needed and the man scampered off.

He stayed with her until the medical equipment she requested arrived, it was hardly sterile but it would have to do. The Mayor was nice, kind, and she admired that, he helped her attach the blood pack to a piece of wood so it could hang above her whilst she planted one stimpack directly into her ankle and the other into the burning sensation coming from her arm. She pulled her lighter out of her pocket and ran the needle through the flame.

She could feel the ghoul’s eyes on her the entire time she stitched up the wound in her arm, out of her peripheral she saw his jaw drop and knew he was amazed at how calm she was staying. She was all but immune to pain, she could even handle losing a limb - though luckily that had yet to happen - the only thing she couldn’t handle was having someone watch her every move, so when Hancock offered her a canister of Jet she was quick to accept.

She never imagined sharing chems with a Mayor, let alone one who not only dressed as him but also called himself John Hancock, it was definitely a first. Her fingers brushed against his as they past the Jet canister to each other, Hancock was the first person she made a connection to in the new world, if she ever needed him for something he’d help her. That much was obvious already, and she was still a complete stranger to him. She almost forgot what kindness such as this was like, her time with the Peabody’s had been several lifetimes ago. They were probably dead too.

They sat there, in comfortable silence, basking in their high. It was a few minutes before she felt numb enough to move, Hancock noticed the motion of her body and helped her to her feet.

“Well, see you around sister. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people. Ya dig?” Hancock tapped his hat down and then walked back into a nearby building.

“Yeah, I dig.” Her childlike voice was uncontrollable. It’d been a while since she’d taken anything and even though she’d been frozen the entire time, two-hundred years of going cold turkey had taken an effect on her.

She moved slowly throughout the streets, to the glowing lights of the Hotel Rexford.

When she opened the door to her room she saw the yellow trench coat out the corner of her eye but didn’t move her head, she was tired and hardly in the mood. Plus, what are the odds? The stodgy mattress, lumpy pillow and thin blanket were a welcome when she finally laid down on the bed. One last sting of a stimpack in her injuries, an overuse of Jet and she drifted off to sleep.

_When she opened her eyes again she was back inside her pod and she wondered if she’d dreamt the whole thing, but as soon as her eyes came into focus and she looked up, she saw them. Two covered head to toe, stood either side of the bald man in camouflage, facing Nathaniel’s pod._

_His door lifted open and the masked woman went to take Shaun from the old man’s arms._

_No. I can’t let them take that kid again. I need to get him home._

_She tried to bang on the inside of the door but her arms wouldn’t move, nothing she wanted to would move. She was stuck and helpless as she watched the bald man lift his pistol and shoot Nathaniel in the head whilst the masked woman took the crying baby in her arms._

“Shaun.” 

His name escaped her lips as she awoke with a start, ignoring the pain her sudden movement caused; sweat beading down her body. She still felt awful but she had to find Shaun. She reluctantly gave into the pain and laid back down, internally struggling with herself as she did. She had no idea when he’d actually been taken, she knew she had been refrozen after they took him but she didn’t know how much time had past. Was she still looking for a baby? It didn’t matter. Her mission hadn’t changed.

She was going to save him and she would kill anyone in the Commonwealth who got in her way and if he wasn’t already dead, the first person she was going to kill was the man responsible for taking him the first place. Though, she’d probably shake his hand first for killing Nathaniel, he’d really done her a favour, before completely screwing her over. But if her first day in the Commonwealth had taught her anything, she couldn’t do it alone. It was time to admit that she needed help.

* * * *

_Though she be but little she is fierce._

 

He followed her the entire way, expecting her to go to Sanctuary, being so close to Vault 111 it was only logical she had lived there but she bypassed the place and headed straight over the bridge. He watched in amazement as the woman climbed the side of the building and grabbed the loose wire, he couldn’t quite see what she was doing from his position but a moment later he saw the light of several lasers spring to life and begin to defend the rundown truck stop. Like a gentlemen, he turned away as she began to change her clothes in broad daylight. 

There was no ignoring it, she was the smallest woman he’d ever seen but she was also the deadliest, and he knew some pretty tough bitches. He knew this because he’d been there when several mole rats burst out of the ground and began attacking the dog that resided at the truck stop, and he was also there when he blinked and all of them had been disposed of. He didn’t even hear the gunshots.

If it wasn’t for the dog at her heels he would have lost her completely, either she had turned completely invisible or she was perhaps the stealthiest person he’d ever met. Black certainly blended better than blue. He couldn’t help but admire the way she blended into her surroundings, sticking to the shadows wherever she could, and he damn near yelled with pride when she snuck past a feral ghoul just inches behind it. He already knew from watching her escape the vault that she knew how to use a gun but watching her use it out in the open was a hell of a lot different from watching it on a screen. She picked a dusty fedora off the ground and with some effort tucked her hair into it as she placed it on her head. _Hidden in plain sight._ God, he admired that too.

_This is bordering on creepy now, you do realise that?_

He watched her sneak through the streets of Boston with a sense of familiarity and when he realised she was getting close to Diamond City, he concocted a plan. He moved quietly and as quickly as he could in the hopes of cutting her off, he’d stashed a guard uniform and helmet close by years ago back when he borrowed, okay _stole_ , it, but hey you never know when it might come in handy. Like now. He was already in full character when he saw her again. Directing her towards Diamond City may have been a risk but he lowered his voice an octave or two so if she ever did find her way into HQ she wouldn’t recognise him.

He pretended to finish his loop of the grounds and doubled back, staying thirty yards behind at all times. The good thing about the Diamond City guard uniform was that it left everything to the imagination, your entire body was covered, which meant she couldn’t see his face.

“Just passing through,” he heard her telling the Mayor and if he hadn’t witnessed her come out of the vault firsthand he would have believed her too. She stood and spoke with all the poise of a local, as if she hadn’t just stepped outside into the Commonwealth for the first time. This is where he left her. She’d approached the city from the west so when she would eventually leave the City she’d most likely venture east, at least this was his hope. Even if she didn’t turn up straight away she’d come across Goodneighbor eventually and by then she’d have a few stories to tell, maybe other agents would noticed her like he had and word would travel to the boss. He could only hope.

The sun had begun to disappear behind the walls of Goodneighbor when they were 'reunited' and he felt almost bad for leaving her behind because she looked like absolute shit when he saw her again. A weak limp from a swollen ankle, cuts and bruises all over her body but she still wore that damn bandana over her face, though he could hardly judge as he leaned casually against the wall, sunglasses hiding his eyes. She hid her identity just as he did, they had something in common. Actually, after witnessing her journey to Diamond City, he realised they had a lot in common. 

_Fucking stalker._

“…keep dumb assholes away from me insurance…” _Damn._ Even battered and bleeding everywhere she kept herself together. She was a survivor and clearly didn’t take crap from anyone. 

He stood back and watched as Hancock came to her rescue, not that she needed it. Finn’s limp body fell to the ground and he felt a small sense of satisfaction. He hated bullies. But this wasn’t about Finn, or Hancock, or even him, this was about her. This was a weak moment for her, she was injured; vulnerable. He was interested to see how she'd cope in a new town. It was obvious she was new to Goodneighbor but she already walked (okay limped) with the stance of a resident. She blended well.

_What makes you think she’s going to team up with you?_

“I can do it myself." had been her response to Hancock’s offer of a doctor. She told him what she needed and Hancock got it without question. He watched in awe as the woman medicated and dressed her injuries, that’d be useful on the road. He frowned slightly when she shared the inhaler of Jet with Hancock but it relaxed her. He didn’t move from his spot as he watched her hobble towards the Rexford, any other character he played would have offered help but not the drifter of Goodneighbor, he simply observed, he didn’t intervene. 

There was no rush, by the extent of her injuries she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. It was the perfect time to report back to HQ. Naturally he wasn’t going to tell the boss about his little vault protege yet, he dropped a holotape in the street before he left Goodneighbor, she was smart, she would find it and then she would find them, find _him._ He planned to make his visit back to HQ as short and sweet as possible, the quicker he was back in Goodneighbor, the less chance there would be that she left.

He’d only been gone two days, practically running the whole time and Dez was happy enough with the report he was supposed to turn in over a week ago, she also ignored his bullshit response when she asked what took him so long. The boss was good like that, letting him have his lies, mostly because she could never tell when he was telling the truth. That was the mark of a true liar, to wrap the truth within the lies so people can’t tell the difference. By the time he returned to Goodneighbor the woman was on her feet. A little worse for wear, but on her feet nonetheless.

“Hey,” he casually said as he walked past her. This time, making his voice an octave higher to throw off suspicion.

He shouldn’t have taken the risk, it was stupid but the thought of being caught sent a thrill up his spine and he was addicted to the high he got from it.

She gave him no acknowledgment, he read nothing in her posture and her damn face was still covered. She was still a complete mystery. She hadn’t notice him follow her into the Third Rail. He remained in the shadows, still sporting the same drifter outfit as before, as if he’d never left, he even pretended to sleep on the floor with the rest of them. He was used to playing the drifter, it was his favourite character to play, no one really asked questions in Goodneighbor.

Ham gave him a nod of acknowledgement when he walked through the door and he smiled politely at both the smartly dressed ghoul and Magnolia’s voice echoing up the stairs. He immediately noticed the sudden relaxation of her muscles when she reached downstairs. Magnolia was on fire as always. If he had to guess the expression on her face she was probably smiling. 

Whitechapel Charlie was not your typical Mr. Handy, somewhere down the line someone must have tampered with him, he had little patience and was never the sort of bartender to wipe down the bar as you told him about your problems. Like everyone else in Goodneighbor, no one cared about someone else’s problems, everyone had enough of their own to deal with. 

He was also not very happy when the woman called him the wrong name.

“The name’s Whitechapel Charlie, love, now are you gonna order a beer or what?” She did.

Codsworth? Wasn’t that the name of the crazy Mr Handy in Sanctuary? He’d spoken to the robot a few times, but he’d just babble about cleaning and how angry ’Sir and mum’ were going to be at the state of the house. Was this woman ‘mum’? She didn’t even look towards the place when she ran straight past it, like she had no idea where it was. He originally thought she’d gone off the deep end, until she pulled that rifle out of the vent behind Red Rocket. There was a tone of guilt in her voice when she spoke, and it hit him, she’d only just remembered him. What had her mind been so preoccupied with when she left that vault? Had she been awake when Kellogg entered? That was impossible, that was over sixty years ago and this woman had to be in her twenties. What the hell happened down there? He was determined to find out.

He watched as she spoke to a drifter and went into the backroom. After a few minutes, two gunners,  _Winlock and Barnes,_ he recognised, walked out and not ten minutes after, she walked out too, the young mercenary in tow.

A tourist had left him info on a target at a drop spot on his way back here, she had a partner; it was time to part once more. 

* * * *

_Kindness, nobler ever than revenge._

 

She’d never hired a mercenary before, she never needed one before, but if travelling back north had been anything like getting here, she was going to need back-up and whilst Dogmeat could handle himself, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone who knew the land at her back.

She could hug the drifter that pointed her in his direction. _MacCready._ Seemed level headed enough, kept himself pretty together during the interrogation he was getting when she entered the room. 

Using the dark spot of the room to her advantage, she took a seat on the couch in the corner, buried her already covered face behind an issue of RoboFun and listened in as the three men subtly threatened each other. It was like being the fourth wheel in a dick measuring contest and she was already at a disadvantage because she lacked that particular appendage. 

“I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock,” spoke the younger man sat on the couch, completely relaxed yet rigid at the presence of the two men. “It’s been almost three months…don’t tell me you’re getting rusty,” he laughed before his face went deadly serious. “Shall we take this outside?”

“It aint like that. I’m just here to deliver a message,” stated Winlock. 

“In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good,” the young man had stood up now, facing the two men.

“Yeah, I heard. But you’re still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn’t going to work for us.”

“I don’t take orders from you…not anymore.” The kid’s confidence was faltering.

_Keep it together._  

“So, why don’t you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can.”

“What?” the other man had remained silent until now. “Winlock, tell me we don’t have to listen to this shit…”

“Listen up, MacCready,” Winlock was a bully, she hated bullies. “The only reason we haven’t filled your body full of bullets is that we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people’s boundaries. We know how to play the game. It’s something you never learned.”

_Son of a bitch._

“Glad to have disappointed you." The hurt he felt at that remark was visible to only her, Winlock had insulted his integrity and he was offended. A mercenary with a heart? Interesting.

“You can play tough guy all you want. But if we hear you’re still operating inside Gunners territory, all bets are off. You got that?” threatened Winlock.

“You finished?”

“Yeah…we’re finished. Come on, Barnes."

The two men left via the door she came through and she waited until they were completely out of sight before taking the comic away from her face. The young mercenary sat back down and grabbed his beer off the table.

She waited until the door closed behind the other two men before standing up and approaching him. He was skeptical about her presence at first, she silently wondered who Atom was when he spoke about preaching about him but aloud asked who the two men were.

If she was going to hire the man she needed to know more about him and people were less likely to keep secrets than she. The things she knew…if they weren’t all about people who were probably dead she may have found it a big deal but the information she could have used as blackmail was obsolete now. Only her skill set mattered but she did what she always did, read people, acknowledged their likes and dislikes and used it to help manipulate them if she needed to. It sounded cold, it was cold but sentiment was for the losing side; the main reason she worked alone most of the time.

“A couple of moron’s looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on the way up.” A tone of resentment in his voice. “You shouldn’t be surprised though, that’s how it goes when you run with the Gunners.”

“Yeah, I think I killed a few of those on my way here,” she took note of the raise of his eyebrows in surprise. “Green bandana, right?” She pointed to the bandana around Dogmeat’s neck and MacCready laughed.

“Yeah…yeah that’s them alright. I stuck with them for a while cause the money was good, but I never fit in. That’s why I made a clean break and started flying solo. Now what about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

How to answer a question like that…

“You don’t. That’s part of the risk, right?” her voice remained deadly serious but there was a faint smile on her face. It wasn’t technically a lie, he didn’t know she wouldn’t, she didn’t know she wouldn’t.

“Can’t argue with that. I’ll tell you what. Price is 250 caps, up front. And there’s no room for bargaining.”

He had said it with such certainty but he’d never met someone like her. By the time they walked out of the room, he had practically begged her to hire him for just one hundred caps. She’d learnt about the value of bottle caps back in Diamond City. She marvelled at the monetary value these people put on a tiny piece of metal, then again, they’d probably say the same thing about the bits of paper they coveted in her time.

She wanted to leave as soon as possible, with any luck they would get to Sanctuary, and leave, before that Vault-Tec rep got anywhere near the place. She’d been stuck in her hotel room for two days waiting for her swollen ankle to resemble its normal size. It still hurt when she put pressure on it but she was close to putting a bullet in her head if she stayed locked in there any longer. 

The lights of the hotel were dim and through her sunglasses she couldn’t see three feet in front of her. It hadn’t been a smart move to take them off in the corridor, she was still limping, she hadn’t had the chance to avoid him.

“What? No it can’t…it…it’s…it’s YOU! From Sanctuary Hills, right?” said the ghoul in the yellow trench coat.

“Wait." He was a ghoul now but she could still see him, underneath the flaky radiation scarred skin, there was his face. “You’re from Vault-Tec.”

There was an odd sensation running through her. _Anger._ She dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from lunging at him. 

“I AM Vault-Tec! Twenty years of loyal service and now look at me. I wasn’t on the list,” he added bitterly. “But you…Look at you. Two hundred years and you’re still perfect! How? How’s that _possible_? Unbelievable! I had to get to the future the hard way. Living through the…filth! The…decay! And the bloodshed,” she was aware of his alarming rage, she was weak but she could still take him barehanded. If he even thought about blaming her for his misfortunes…

She was like a pot of water that had been left to boil for too long, the anger she wasn’t used to feeling was too much to control and before she could stop herself, she was pointing her pistol at his face.

“You ruined everything,” she stated in a breath. “Why did you come to Sanctuary?” 

“Vault-Tec gave me the list of houses I had to visit,” he defended with his arms raised in alarm. “Vault 111 was built close the village, there was no way I couldn’t ask.”

“You ruined my life,” she responded, her fingers uncontrollably cocking the gun she still had pointed at him. “Did you know, did you know what they were going to do to us?"

“What? What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the barrel pointed at his face. 

“Cryogenics. Vault-Tec locked us away in these pods and froze us. Just so they could watch,” it was the first honest sentence to leave her mouth since she left the vault and, like the little girl she once was, she wanted to cry.

She watched his face contort into a mixture of shock and horror.

“They…Vault-Tec _never_ told me that.” 

Either he was an incredible liar (which she doubted) or Vault-Tec really had kept him in the dark. It was that logical reasoning which forced her to lower her gun, and it also the reason she found herself feeling sorry for him, being betrayed by his own bosses like that, perhaps that’s why she did it. 

Sanctuary was the only place she knew and at least he’d keep himself busy. He practically made her promise she’d come visit, she hated making promises, she always kept them. And she wasn’t exactly the type of person to have a heart-to-heart over tea and biscuits.

“Seriously?” questioned MacCready as he readjusted the rifle on his back. “A Mr. Handy? We’re travelling through the sh- mess that is the Commonwealth for a _robot.”_

She nodded silently, not really in the mood to talk. He was a hired mercenary, who the hell did he think he was to question her?

“I guess you’re the boss,” he stated, a flicker of doubt in his voice.

“We’ll be okay,” she believed it. “Just stick to the shadows. Which reminds me, are you a up close and personal kinda guy or do you prefer to shoot from a distance?”

“It depends. Why?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll have to adapt my fighting style to counter yours. If you’re close, I need to be far away, if you decide to go high, I need to go low. We’re going to have to come up with some hand signals. Maybe grab a radio or two.”

“Wow, you really thought this through didn’t you?” She appreciated the respectful tone of his voice.

“It helps to be prepared,” she always prepared, for every eventuality. “Depending on what state Sanctuary Hills is in, we should stay there for a while, work out our strategies for different events, work on signals.” 

“I hope you don’t expect me to help carry all this worthless crap?” he stated, knowing a woman this small could only carry so much and it was only a matter of time before she asked him to help.

_You’ll carry whatever the fuck I tell you to._

She took a deep breath before speaking out loud.

“Everything has its use, MacCready. You need to learn that. Stick with me,” she stuck her thumb to her chest, “and you’ll learn how to build a gun with a tin can.”

“That doesn’t sound true.”

“Would I lie to you?” she pressed her hand to her chest.

They both knew the answer to that; yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Fire' and 'Fury' come from the Skillet song 'Fire and Fury' because I'm too in love with that band not to include a reference to them somewhere.
> 
> When it comes to the feral ghoul, the movie she refers to is actually 'I Am Legend' because OMG they look so frickin' similar and the 'file' is actually referring to the Russian Sleeping experiment. If you don't know what that is, google that shit, it is seriously messed up (whether it's complete bullshit or not)


	3. I'm The One You're Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready has come to the conclusion that he has been hired by a lunatic...with a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Out of Time and MacCready's backstory.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [I'm the One You're Looking For - Lynda Carter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3SemSO0XsM))

_How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world._

 

To say he was peeved was putting it lightly, he was downright pissed off, and a little confused. He didn’t even know what happened, so many words were spilling out of her mouth, at such an alarming ratethat he was still processing the first half of her sentence by the time she’d changed the subject completely.

Two-hundred and fifty caps…it wasn’t a lot to ask for considering strangers were hiring him to watch their backs and most people just accepted it. But he learnt _very_ quickly that this particular woman was not most people. 

Two 10mm pistols hung off her hips, a sniper rifle holstered to her back, a bandana over her face, a jumpsuit that was too tight not to notice how shapely she was...and that _right there_ was probably how she snared him in the first place.

So, there he was, a hundred and fifty caps worse off and following her to Sanctuary, which was about as far north as anyone could get in the Commonwealth. All for a fucking Mr. Handy. The robot had better be part sentry bot or at least shoot fire out of its eyes because the long trip north had better be worth it; a hundred caps was certainly not worth risking his life for.

For the most part getting there had been a breeze, just the usual: a few ferals, a group of raiders and a super mutant or two, but between the two of them (not forgetting the dog at her feet) they made easy work of the ones they couldn’t avoid. He was quite happy to shoot down everything they came across but, evidently, this woman only shot when she needed to.

She also only spoke when she needed to, she barely said a word to him as they travelled, save the occasional ‘sorry’ after every time she turned around and pointed a gun at his face. She was obviously used to travelling alone but it was hard not to take it personally that she kept forgetting he was there, he liked to think he was a bit more rememberable than that, especially as it had been less than six hours since she hired him.

_Memory of a creeper this one._

Other than that, he knew nothing about her, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know more and, given how little she spoke to him, getting information out of her would be about as difficult as trying to persuade a super mutant  _not_ to kill you.

She moved a little faster once they reached the bridge and he was a little surprised, and insulted, when she ‘commanded’ he stay outside one of the houses whilst she went further up the path. 

He watched her try the door to a locked house and ten seconds later a Mr. Handy - the one they came all this way for - came floating around the corner.

She couldn’t hide her surprise at the fact he was still there, still functioning perfectly, a little rusty around the edges sure but there he was, floating in front of her.

“Of course I’m still here. Surely you don’t think a little radiation could deter the pride of General Automics International?” She’d upgraded and changed him so many times he could hardly been considered the work of GA. “But you seem a little worse for wear. Best not let Mr Nate see you like this, you know how he reacts when you’ve even a hair out of place.”

Technically speaking, Codsworth belonged to Nathaniel but she’d tweaked his programming so many times when they were alone that he was more friendly towards her than General Automics would deem necessary, but Codsworth had seen first hand the heartless bastard Nathaniel was sometimes. Bruises and fractured bones were a part of the job, a necessary consequence to being in a relationship with a man who was wracked with self-doubt. Most of the time it happened when she showed him up, pointing out a mistake in his words. Asking questions she knew she shouldn’t have. He’d slapped her a few times in front of his men - asserting his dominance and control over her - but the real pain came when they were in the house alone. She was glad he’d left her face alone, everything else could be hidden by clothes.

She heard his eyes move past her, realising she was alone, and asked her where Nathaniel was. There was no sadness in her voice when she told him Nathaniel was dead.

“Oh dear, and what of the boy? What about Shaun?” Codsworth, like her, was far more concerned about the baby than the dead man.

Saying out loud for the first time that he had been kidnapped was harder than she expected, there was an overwhelming, unfamiliar, sense of guilt at just the thought. She was meant to save Shaun, not lose him. If she had just got to Shaun before Nathaniel…

It didn’t matter, dwelling on it wasn’t going to change anything, her mission was still the same - Shaun needed to be saved - the rest would come later, first, she just needed to find him.

“Of course you will, mum. It’s what you’re good at.”

Codsworth knew nothing about who she was before meeting Nathaniel but she always suspected he knew more than he was letting on, though nothing he did or said confirmed this for her. 

She turned the upper half of her body towards the bridge and whistled to a distracted MacCready and gestured for him to come over.

He felt like a fucking dog just running up the path, and she had the audacity to disappear behind the side of the house. This was definitely not worth a hundred caps yet. By the time he caught up with her, she had picked up a rusty shovel, was on her knees and putting her hand into the hole she just created.

_ Did we seriously come all this way to do some gardening? _

Just as he was about to give the hundred caps back to her and leave, she grunted and then suddenly fell on her ass. He liked her ass, given how tight her jumpsuit was, her ass was the only thing he could actually see, but not see all at the same time. And she had taken lead on the way up here and, what with all their sneaking about, it was difficult not to notice the perfect rear in front of him. It was the main reason he stayed for the whole journey up here.

At first he thought she was holding a pile of dirt in her hand but then she started to brush the dirt away and he saw the barrel of a gun.

She gave the gun a quick assessment, it needed cleaning desperately, being buried for two-hundred years had caused a hell of a lot of dirt build up.

“You’re surprised?” interrupted MacCready, having finally caught up to her.

Other than that, it was still in pretty good condition. She continued to turn the gun over in her hand, ignoring his comment, and got to her feet. She didn’t really need it, she had her usual weapons back now, but she could never bare to throw a perfectly good gun away and, even though it hadn’t got to do the job it was originally designated for, it might come in useful.

“So, what?” MacCready ushered forward. “You’ve just got guns buried throughout the Commonwealth?”

She shrugged and slightly nodded her head in response, _pretty much_ , by her count there were at least twenty weapons buried throughout Boston and thone were just the ones she could remember. She held the gun between her middle finger and thumb as she walked around the back of her old house and walked to the workbench outside the house of her old neighbour Rosa. The Cartel Queen.

“So, what is this place?” MacCready asked, glancing around the village. “I mean, you don’t live here on your own, do you?”

“It used to be home to the deadliest gang in the U.S” _Used to be, because they’re all dead now. Suffocated._

_Yeah, maybe you can go back and shoot them all in the head? You know, just to make sure._

“No one’s referred to this hell as that for a while…Where did you say you were from?”

“I didn’t.”

A little truth. To be fair it wasn't actually a little truth at all, it was a great big whopping one. Where she came from, the origins of her start in the Commonwealth…just half a mile away up the hill. 

Coming back to Sanctuary had probably been a mistake. She was actually happy to see Codsworth again - the only thing from her past she didn’t hate - but it was just another reminder of everything that had happened to her over two-hundred years ago. But it wasn't two hundred years ago, not to her at least, as far as her mind and body were concerned it had only been a matter of days.

She wasn’t sure what she was feeling...Remorse? Remorse for who? Regret? Yeah, there was definitely a lot of regret in her past…like regretting she hadn’t reached Shaun first. It wasn’t like her to be like this, this was Nora’s department.

Nora was who Nathaniel thought she was, the perfect, beautiful, obedience housewife. Before her was Alice, the girl Billy knew her as.

_Billy…_

Once she was done finding Shaun she would travel to Quincy because maybe, just maybe, Billy was like the people in Goodneighbour, radiated-scarred ghouls which their humanity intact. She could hope.

_Tell him something at least_. Nora always spoke an octave higher than her, just to throw people off a little, she hadn’t travelled to the U.S much but there was always a chance she’d run into someone who may have met her before. She looked different of course, red hair turned black, a block fringe cut in and a lot more make up, but there was nothing as being too careful when it came to an undercover mission.

Maybe she could tell him, it was just one person…and she could always kill him.

_Ah, more blood on your hands._

“Five days, nine hours and,” she eyed her Pip-Boy. “Fifty-two minutes.” 

She said it so quickly he barely heard her and why did that thing on her wrist look so familiar?

“What?”

“That’s how long I’ve been in the Commonwealth.” She exhaled the huge breath she was holding and she instinctively stopped herself from shaking…adrenaline from telling the truth.

It was certainly a first.

"What…Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you… _you_ …were a Vaultie?” That’s what was on her wrist, a fucking Pip-Boy, he sighed in both frustration and surprise. How had he only just noticed it? It wasn’t like the thing was tiny and inconspicuous. 

Great, not only had he been swindled out of a hundred and fifty caps but the woman who had convinced him to do such a thing came from a damn vault. He felt like his life expectancy had shortened even more in light of this new development.

And it was definitely not worth the hundred caps. He should give them back. Right now…

Add ‘vaultie’ to the list of words she didn’t understand. “If you mean did I come out of a Vault? Then yes, but I never lived in one,” she chose her words carefully. Technically it wasn’t a lie, she never really lived in the vault, just remained in stasis for two centuries.

Honestly, what were the odds of something like that?

“You talk in riddles, anyone ever tell you that?” 

_This woman is batshit crazy._

And what exactly did she mean by that? Came from a vault but never lived in one. She strutted and bossed him around a Brotherhood of Steel soldier, hardly the sort of woman to go live in a vault. Must have seen some pretty fucked up shit to make her this nuts…and she seemed so together when they were in Goodneighbor. 

Regardless, she’d actually said something real to him, given her mental state it was probably kind to say something back; anything to stop her using the gun she was cleaning.

“Robert Joseph MacCready,” came out of the blue, she looked at him. “My full name.” 

_A little truth_. He’d only just noticed that she had told him something about her and had felt the desire to return the kindness. Start small…Y _ou don’t know you can trust her yet_. His silent thoughts were written all over his face and in the way he carried himself. 

_You can’t_. Telepathy wasn’t a skill she had acquired yet.

MacCready started being weirdly delicate with her, as if she was as fragile as glass, and it was starting to grate on her but she could only imagine how her words sounded to him, when he didn’t know the whole story. He probably thought she was crazy.

The two of them spent the rest of the day and most of the evening laying out every formation possible, she even made a cheat sheet for MacCready to carry around. Between her skills and MacCready’s knowledge of the Commonwealth, they were quick to fill the map they had laid out on a table. Her knees hurt from having knelt down for the past six hours but she ignored it. MacCready, however, could not ignore the numbness of his legs and the sudden pinpricks on his feet.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, sitting on the floor and kicking his legs out to bring life to them; they felt like jelly.

“We can stop for a moment if you want?” she wasn’t really asking, she’d figured out the answer before she said it. 

But it was okay, today they had done well, they’d mapped out half the centre of the Commonwealth, marking ‘safe’ routes in green. Safe wasn’t the correct word from what the routes were, there were no safe ones, but they marked particular ‘less intelligent’ ( _dumbass_ ) enemies that were easy to sneak past. Yellow routes indicated the quickest routes to Diamond City and Goodneighbour from almost every place on the map. The likelihood of either of them being anywhere near Diamond City was low, she still hadn’t forgotten her first experience of the place, the rancid smell of self-proclaimed pride that oozed off the Mayor, the ‘holier than thou’ attitude more of the residents had and if she were to step back there that Piper woman would only corner her for a story she hadn’t even begun to fabricate yet. Red routes were for the scarier creatures of the Commonwealth, your glowing ghouls, your mutant suiciders and, whilst travelling with MacCready, Gunners - the more of those they avoided for the moment the better. Then there were the routes marked in purple, MacCready had been quite happy to call it the “get the hell out of there” line — reserved mainly for deathclaws. As they marked and spoke about each spot and route she took note of the pattern that had begun to form. Though there were all colours on the map, as she looked down it, the more purple and red routes dominated.

"So, the further south you go…the more dangerous it becomes.”

“Can’t be surprised, what with the Glowing Sea an’ all." She eyed him questionably. “Jeez, what were you, stuck in a Vault or something?”  He joked, and for the first time in over two hundred years she genuinely laughed. She’d almost forgotten what it sounded like when it escaped her mouth, rather than the girlish tosh she had to force out whenever Nathaniel said something sexual that made her stomach turn or the airy laugh she had to give every time the postman made the same joke. Every damn morning. No, this was a genuine laugh. First there was letting the Vault-Tec guy come live in Sanctuary, and now she was laughing with a man she paid to help her and she told him she came out a vault, less than thirty-six hours after they left Goodneighbor. It was the most she’d shown of herself in over two hundred and ten years.

_That’s unsettling._

“It’s where the first nuclear bomb hit. Ground zero.” 

_I could see it from my house._

“Do you remember the clouds going green the other day during that lightning storm? The taste of something funny on your tongue?” She nodded. “That’s radiation from the Glowing Sea getting swept up in the wind. That funny little taste…is actually radiation coursing through your body when lightning hits.”

Great, suddenly that taste of her tongue was far more alarming. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not enough to kill you, just don’t go swimming, okay?” his eyes were serious.

She nodded and closed the map, her fingernails tapped the paper lightly and her palm slammed down as a million synapses fired at once. 

“Wait, are you…MacCready, are you scared of water?” His hands fidgeted in his lap for a moment just before he tilted his head back and smiled.

“If it’ll melt the skin off my bones and turn my brain to mush, yeah!” He gave a fake laugh and she eyed him sympathetically. “Don’t!…Don't go spreading that around okay, I could lose business.”

“Yeah, being an ex-Gunner who’s scared of water can really put a snag in one’s future,” she elbowed him lightly. “Don’t worry, RJ, your secret’s safe with me.” 

_You have no idea._

He huffed.

“I’m going to regret telling you that, aren’t I?” He knew from the first mention of it that ‘RJ’ would forever be her nickname for him.

Nicknames were always a good way to make someone feel connected to you, she knew that — forcing herself to say ‘Nate’ every time she spoke out loud to him — and she also knew that MacCready would be no exception.

“Probably.”

She arose first that morning, not quite remembering falling asleep, her neck ached but the rest was satisfactory enough. A small snore drew her attention to the sleeping man on the floor, his pack under his arm, his head resting on said arm and his legs sprawled out in front of him, she imagined he was not unlike a child waiting to go on holiday.

_It must have been nice._

She eyed the time on her Pip-Boy and then looked back at MacCready, she could let him have a few more hours of peace, and so quietly, she straightened up and headed outside. With one quick glance back at a fast asleep MacCready, she closed the door behind her.

They weren’t what she would call ‘partners’, it was more of an arrangement — she paid him and he did what she told him to — she wasn’t sure if they could trust each other yet. He certainly couldn’t trust her, that much was clear, but there was always a small chance that little ‘confrontation’ was all for show and he’d stab her in the back; literally. Still, at least for now he was just watching her back (and her ass) and she had to admit that it was, somewhat, relieving to have him there. Even when she forgot he was there and turned with her gun pointed at his head every time she heard a noise behind her, she lost count of how many times she’d said ’sorry’ to him. He’d gotten used to it before they even reached the truck stop, he barely flinched after the first six times.

Her attention was turned to the destruction around her, parts of destroyed houses scattered the streets and almost every intact house wasn’t actually that intact. But, all in all, compared to the rest of the Commonwealth, it had faired pretty well, considering the world had ended. Still, if she was going to turn this place into something, she was going to need help.

“What about Concord, mum?” Codsworth floated from around the corner. “There are people there and last time I checked they only pummelled me with sticks a few times before I had to run back home!”

Sanctuary was more remote than Concord, she could convince who ever lived there to come back with her and they’d work to make it a more liveable environment whilst she worked on finding Shaun.

“Come on, boss. I think it’ll look good on you.” MacCready laughed, even Dogmeat whined jokingly.

She made a mental note to deactivate Codsworth when they were back in Sanctuary.

Everything seems simple at first, but nothing ever is, there’s always one more hurdle to jump over, another enemy to fight and their trip to Concord had been no exception. Getting there had been simple but as soon as they reached the Museum of Freedom, they suddenly found themselves in a gunfight with a group of raiders and some mysterious hatted man asking for their help.

“You could have said ignored him, you could have kept going but no, you had to help.” MacCready pointed out. 

_This crazy bitch is gonna get me killed._

_Bastard’s getting cocky now_ , but he was right, she really could have just ignored it. At first she thought they just walked into a bunch of raiders shooting at each other but, after she and MacCready cleared the streets, she heard a man asking for help. She could never say no when people asked for help, especially those that looked like they needed it and it was never in her nature (just her job) to leave people, unless they deserved it.

When the three of them first entered the Museum, they found themselves targets of the rest of the raiders that were trying to infiltrate a group of innocents whom had barricaded themselves at the top of the building.

“Now? You’re doing that now?” argued MacCready, over Dogmeat’s vicious growls. 

She could see his point, it was hardly the time or place but there was a terminal and a locked door. How could she not hack it?

“Got it,” she snuck into the now open metal cage. “What the…” she questioned the glowing red…thing…she pulled out of the old machinery.

“It’s a fusion core,” MacCready stated, still firing shots at the relentless raiders. “You could always help me instead of picking up junk.”

She didn’t speak a word as she put Fire and Fury back in their respective holsters and reached her arms over her shoulders and took Relentless off her back. She took one deep breath before aiming for the heads of the raiders still trying to kill them.

_And that’s how you shoot a sniper rifle, kid._

She kept Relentless in her grasp as they made their way through the miles of corridor, up the endless maze of stairs until they (finally!) reached the top floor. She could hear the last two raiders talking and stepped back into the shadow the stairwell had created.

“Why are you bothering?” argued MacCready but still copied. “They know we’re here.”

“I’m coming in there and I’m gonna skin every last one of ya!” shouted one voice.

“C’mon, man. They aint goin’ nowhere. We got other shit to deal with,” stated another voice.

“You hear that? I gotta go take a little walk but I’ll be back and you’ll be dead!” 

She put the scope to her eye, took a deep breath, and caught one of them in her crosshairs. The remaining raider had run over to see what had happened and, one quick shot later, everyone was dead. At least she had been hoping it was everyone, there had better be nothing else out there.

If she could go back in time, she’d probably slap Preston around the face, not that it was his fault, just because she felt the urge to. Meeting him had led her to meet a small group of people praying for their lives and she couldn’t blame them, from what Preston had told her almost immediately they had lost a lot of people. Still, that had led to a man with a native accent (who was an amateur at hacking a terminal), which then led to a conversation about fusion cores and a vertibird, and some kind of power armour. She got it, power armour was a big deal, even went they were first revealed people were swooning over those that wore them but she could never see the appeal. There was no mission she’d ever undertake that involved having to wear…power armour, of all things. The thought was gut-wrenching, the suit was big, bulky and really fucking noticeable. 

But, alas, here she was, stood in front of the huge armour, her mouth slightly open in shock; they were a lot bigger in person. It was like standing in front of a lifeless giant…made of metal.

_This is bullshit._

“Put on the suit, boss." He tried to make it out lighthearted but inside he was begging this crazy woman to climb in the suit mainly for her own protection. She was good with a gun, he wouldn’t deny that, but a crazy person with a gun is just a raider on psycho and that fucking mechanic actually suggested she used a minigun. A minigun of all things, he would be lucky to get off this roof alive. 

She turned away from him as she took down her sunglasses to clean them, not looking at him again until her face was re-covered. Her jumpsuit and sniper rifle had never before failed her. 

“Just put on the suit,” he joked repeatedly.

“I swear I will shoot you in the face,” she warned with a turn of her head before shooting at the raiders that surrounded the building. 

“And I did it without that ridiculous armour,” she pointed out. Just as the sentence left her mouth the building underneath them shook violently. “What the…?” The ground at the end of the street exploded and a giant mutated lizard came skulking out.

“That would be a deathclaw." All the amusement had evaporated from his voice. The creature roared, shaking the ruined buildings around it and bound towards them. “Boss…” She was concerned by his panicked expression. “PUT ON THE SUIT!” He screamed as the deathclaw noticed them.

She wasn’t shaking from fear as she stepped into the suit, the exhilaration rushing through her was hitting every nerve and the high was almost impossible to control. It was a fight, the sort she revelled in; an impossible one. The suit itself was big, clunky and almost impossible to manoeuvre in but when she pulled that minigun off its perch…well, there was no other feeling like it. 

“So, what do you suggest now?” 

_Is she fucking serious?_

“Jump down and fill the damn thing with bullets!” he screamed.

“You got it, boss!” She mock-saluted him.

She gave a few false starts to the minigun, she may not like using it but she still knew _how_ to use it. The ground beneath her shook violently as she landed. Loudly too. Loud enough to solely hold the attention of the deathclaw. She gripped the minigun tightly as the unstable machine fired out hundreds of bullets at once, right into the belly of the giant lizard.

The minigun was hard to control, it wasn’t a weapon she was used to but the power armour seemed to be compensating a fair amount. When the Deathclaw came bounding towards her and a large talon knocked her backwards, it would be the one and only time she was thankful to be wearing a five-hundred pound suit of armour. 

Despite the pain, even the giant lizard trying to crawl its way into her metal casing, she didn’t take her finger off the trigger. An entire lifetime past as she laid helpless on her back before the deathclaw’s lifeless body crashed down onto her and, suddenly, all the positive aspects of power armour evaporated the moment she realised she couldn’t get up.

_Like a bloody turtle. Why is the exit through the back? What kind of fucked up manufacturing is this?_

She was never one to beg, unless she really needed to, and as degrading as it was to ask for MacCready to help her, she knew there was no way she was getting up on her own. Between her fruitless efforts to move and MacCready and Sturges using all their strength, she was finally stood on her feet. She climbed out of the power armour the moment she could and brushed herself down.

“So…how d’you like the suit?” MacCready’s thin eyebrows wiggled with joy.

She responded by kicking the power armour repeatedly, knowing she wasn’t ever going to have the strength to even dent the thing.

“Boss." A hand landed on her shoulder, she looked warningly at him. “I think it's down,” he didn’t release his hand from her shoulder. 

She took a deep breath, taking her frustration out on an inanimate object was not the best way to spend her time. She rushed back into the museum to check on everyone, they were okay, if not a little shaken up. 

"That was…a pretty amazing display. I’m just glad you’re on our side.” He had turned his attention to her

She really wanted to say “Can I leave now?” but something in her brain had twisted the words as they came out of her mouth and she found herself asking if they were going to be okay. Why on earth was she caring about a group of strangers?

_Because you need them._

“Yeah, for a while anyway. We can at least move someplace safer,” Preston adjusted himself. “Hey, one thing you should know about the Minutemen is that we always help out our friends. It may not be a chest full of emeralds but here,” she thrusted most of the caps in MacCready’s direction and also handed him the fusion cells for the laser musket she’d given him after Preston insisted she pick it up. “You should come with us to Sanctuary. We could use the help.” 

Well, how’s that for coincidence. 

“Actually, that’s the main reason I came here.” Preston looked at her in surprise. “We’ve just come from there. It’s a bit of a mess,” she shamelessly put her hand on his right pectoral. “We could use the help to clean up the place.”

_Manipulative bitch._

In truth, she had no desire to get her hands dirty but convincing other people to do the things she didn’t want to was another talent of hers. It was obvious from the pained look on his face when she touched him that it had been a while, one touch from her and all of them were suddenly walking towards Sanctuary.

People would call it cruel, but nothing was ever as simple as that, emotions just got in the way. MacCready was complaining, of course he was, he was questioning her decisions even more now and she was close to punching him in the face. Maybe he really did think she was insane. When she kindly suggested that he pick up all the metal and wood on his own his protests stopped immediately.

“No, thank you!” he responded, adding a spring to his step and matching her pace as they walked to the front. “You called me boss.”

Yes, yes she did. More than anything it was a slip of the tongue, something people said when they were being bossed around.

“Sorry, would you prefer a different title? How about Mayor MacCready?” 

He gave a strange laugh, the sort of laugh people had when they connected to a memory. There was a story there but she knew he would tell her in his own time, or she’d charm it out of him. Whichever came first. 

“Oh, mum!” Codsworth hovered at the edge of the bridge. “I was so worried. But it looks like you found what you were looking for!” He took note of the group of stragglers that were in tow.

“Codsworth…I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” her face remained serious but there was a light-heartedness in her voice.

MacCready watched with childish joy as she veered from the group and towards Codsworth.

“…and a fucking Deathclaw! Thanks very much for that warning. If I had died Codsworth…”

“Mum, if I had thought there was something there that you couldn’t handle…believe me, my programming would not have allowed you to go.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Codsworth, there’s nothing in your programming to stop me from doing anything and you know it.”

“You’re right,” his body floated a little closer to the ground, ashamed of himself. “I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you. Especially after Mr Nate and Sha-“ she cut his sentence short with a look of death.

“I will end you if you finish that sentence.”

“Perhaps I should help clear some of this debris.” Codsworth floated away before she was true to her word. 

MacCready wondered who ‘Nate’ was and the other name she hadn’t allowed the old bot to mention. Maybe she wasn't insane, a little crazy sure but there was something about Sanctuary that had definitely changed her. Not that she’d ever tell him what it was.

When the whole nasty business with Winlock and Barnes occurred, he knew he was in no immediate danger but still, it had been nice to realise she’d been there. He didn’t even realise she was in the room until she got up from the couch. None of them had seen or heard her come in, and his eyes were constantly on the door.

She knew her way around people, that much had been obvious from the start, and when she put a hand on Preston’s chest, the man practically ran ahead to start clearing the place. For a crazy Vault Dweller, she handled the deathclaw with more finesse than most veterans of the Commonwealth, she certainly dealt with it better than he would have, and he had seen a few of them over his lifetime. Though it didn’t make him any less terrified.

She wasn’t the first vaultie he’d met…his mind wandered back to his childhood in Little Lamplight. But he knew he’d never met anyone quite like her. He admired her when she asked for more caps, she was doing someone a favour, she (they) deserved a little more buck for their bang, and she rarely tried to appeal to people’s good side. He guessed that she, like him, believed they didn’t have one.

_Who the hell is this woman?_ He definitely needed to ask her at some point but as soon as she thrusted more than half the caps into his hand, he was suddenly not bothered. Besides, hand on heart, being hired by a crazy, completely covered head-to-toe stranger wasn’t the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

There was a purpose for his need of caps, if he could make enough he could send them back home to his son, to Duncan. MacCready had left him back in the Capital Wasteland, he knew he had to prove himself to be a father; one good enough for him. All the caps were pointless though, if he couldn’t find the cure for Duncan’s ailment then his son would die. His eyebrows furrowed at the thought. He’d got a lead, he was just waiting for someone to hire him so he could venture out again. The problem with being hired though was that it was hardly his place to ask a favour. Just like he was doing for his son, he would have to prove himself to the boss and then he’d, casually, approach the topic, he’d make it her choice, if they just happened to pass…

“RJ?” The voice brought him back to reality. Codsworth had long floated away by now and the boss faced him, her hand on her hip. He could only guess the expression on her face, she always covered her face when they were together. He wondered if she ever took the bandana and sunglasses off. “RJ?” she repeated, where was his mind today?

“Sorry,” he gruffly cleared his throat, straightened up and carried on walking.

“Where did you go just now?” she spoke lower, a hint of concern in her voice, when she ran to catch up with him.

“Nowhere, boss." Technically not a lie. “I’ve been outside in the Commonwealth since you hired me.” 

She simply shook her head but as her pace quickened he swore she almost seemed proud of him for lying. Just the chance to read her face. 

“Hey, boss!” he shouted after her, she stopped immediately, at any other moment he may have found her easy submission surprising. “Why do you always cover your face?”

“I can’t imagine people in the Commonwealth recognising you is a good thing,” there was her hand on her hip again. “Unless you’re a mercenary of course,” he couldn’t see but he sure as hell felt her eyes travel down his body; examining him. “Why else would we travel mostly at night and climb cliffs rather than taking the road?”

She was right, of course. Most people were attacked on the main roads than those climbing cliffs, jumping roofs and taking the long way round rather than the dangerous shortcut. Even if it did scare him half to death a lot of the time, sometimes she would jump a gap a bloatfly hatchling would struggle to cross and those things flew! On more than one occasion he thought he was out of a job. But she did it, every time. It was incredible, though he felt slightly less of a man when she would drop over a plank of wood so he could walk across, though she gave no indication she thought the same. She was one of a kind and even though he was constantly wondering how long it was before she shot him, he was enjoying his time with her - it was entertaining to say the least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another overhaul (I will eventually stop saying that) and this one ended up longer than ever. This whole fanfic is getting longer by the second...I can literally see it growing.
> 
> 'Put on the suit'...sorry, couldn't resist. I do somewhat see my FSS as Natasha Romanoff with a bit of Cal Lightman thrown in.


	4. Nature of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say, a lot can happen in 48 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about the blossoming friendship between my SS and MacCready, it contains a lot of in game dialogue and has spoilers for the quest ‘Confidence Man’. 
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Nature of the Beast - My Darkest Days]())

****_The common curse of mankind, - folly and ignorance_

 

She woke up in a dirty motel room, a lumpy mattress under her body, and moved the thin cover to look down at her half-naked body. Her attention was drawn to the strong arm wrapped around her waist. She turned to see a naked MacCready asleep next to her and sighed.

It had been a crazy couple of days.

Hindsight really was a bitch, the moment you realise what you should have done, and the fact it means sod all because it’s not like you can go back and change it now. However, that didn’t stop her from wishing she had, they should have left Sanctuary the second they got back and she definitely shouldn’t have had that conversation with Preston.

The first time had ended with her fighting a deathclaw, she knew better than to agree to help him. She was going to have to get the words tattooed into her arm…if it sounds simple, it’s anything but.

_The Minutemen could use someone like you._

He’d asked them to check on a nearby settlement, going to Tenpines Bluff had led them to a factory where both her and MacCready were lucky to get out alive. They’d gone with no prior knowledge, no plan. This wasn’t how she operated. 

_Insubordinate._

They returned to Sanctuary to report their ‘success’ (aka that they weren’t dead) and Preston was suddenly calling her ‘General’. She didn’t want the role, she told him repeatedly, the last thing she needed was a title, for word to get around about her. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer and, considering he was the last of the Minutemen, it would only ever be him that called her that…except when MacCready starting calling her it too.

“So,  _General_ ,” he smirked.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“A crazy chem addict tells you about the jewel of the Commonwealth and we’re here. Now what?”

“I don’t know! If Preston hadn’t been there I would have given her chems right then but, no, she’s fucking useless without them.” She was incredibly grateful MacCready had not even tried to bring up Mama Murphy’s mention of her ‘son’. Maybe he was finally getting how their arrangement worked.

_Ahh, Mama Murphy, you crazy chemmed-up cow._ Seer, fortune teller, con-artist…crazy as shit…whatever you want to call her, Mama Murphy was the damn reason they were travelling back to the one place neither of them wanted to go but it was her only lead.

“You’re a woman out of time. Out of hope. But all’s not lost. I can feel it…your son’s energy,”

_Stop talking_. In front of half a dozen strangers and a man she barely knew, this was not the time or place to have this ‘premonition’. 

“He’s alive.” 

_Stop - Wait, what_?

“He’s alive? Tell me where he is.” It wasn’t a request. “I need to find him.”

“I…can’t see him. Not clearly. But I feel his life force. He’s out there.” 

_And I’m going to find him_.

‘Great green jewel of the Commonwealth’ she had called it, and by the look on MacCready’s face, he knew exactly where that was.

The map they had made was tucked safely in her pack and they made it to Diamond City in record time. Though, in her defence, it had been her first time in over two hundred years and the streets weren’t as safe as they once were. She slightly regretted leaving Dogmeat behind but other than Preston and Codsworth, the people that had settled there were incredibly useless. They needed all the help they could get. 

“I haven’t been to Diamond City in years, but I’ll tell you…nothing’s changed.” 

She froze in place when they past Publick Occurrences, Nat stood on a box in front shouting out. She lowered her knees a little, tucked herself next to MacCready and looked straight ahead.

“Boss…” MacCready was confused by their new position.

“Don’t look, just keep walking.” If anyone was on the other side of MacCready they’d only see him, she was only noticeable if someone stood behind or in front of them. They carried on walking in this position until they reached the market.

* * * *

_It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves._

 

Though he literally had no control over what happened. It was just a coincidence, there was no such thing as fate.

He was back in Diamond City, back in his guard uniform - not for the reasons you’re thinking - the Railroad tracked down a synth here, he just had to find them, which was easier said than done considering he only had the boss’ words to go by.

“There’s a synth living in Diamond City, go find it.”

He was reluctant to go for multiple reasons, for one, as far as information goes that was sod all and, secondly, if there was a synth living in Diamond City, quite happy living amongst other people then who the hell was he to disturb their lives?

It was hard to take Desdemona seriously enough as it was, he still remembered when she was a green recruit, but sometimes it was really hard to respect her. If she just stopped for a second and thought, maybe she’d realise that the Railroad wasn’t always the best thing for synths, sure they helped out a lot of them, thanks to Patriot, but perhaps bringing attention to synths living amongst humans wasn’t the best way to go…

This was just his opinion of course, one he kept to himself.

He thought he was in trouble when he saw a man pull a gun on his brother, accusing him of being a synth. As a Railroad agent he wanted to step in, intervene, but no other guard moved a muscle and the point was to blend in; he was just a covered face in a sea of covered faces.

_Greatest disguise ever._

Next thing you know, one guy’s dead on the floor - not a synth part in sight - and the other guy quickly followed suit when a guard _finally_ intervenes. A little too late in his opinion but alas, karma had worked its mysterious magic once more. Though…

_An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind._

It was the main reason he only ever shot when he needed to. 

_Kinda like…_

His entire body tensed and he felt naked (despite being covered head-to-toe) when he recognised the woman talking to another guard about what happened.

He wasn’t going to follow them, he wasn’t. He repeatedly told himself this, even as his feet moved of their own accord, betraying his instinct. She was still travelling with that young mercenary, finding it odd the kid hadn’t stabbed her in the back yet. She’d probably search for the Railroad when he finally did.

But he’d get just a little bit more recon on her first. Just a little.

* * * *

_Though this be madness, yet there is method in ’t._

 

“Have you ever had this guy’s noodles? They’re amazing.”

She turned to MacCready in disbelief. Seriously, they weren’t going to talk about the fact a man just killed his brother and then got shot himself? Right in the middle of the street. And what the hell was a synth?

“What’s up, Taka? Set me up with some of your skim…uh, skima…chunga…urrr, whatever they’re called.” 

Apparently they really weren’t going to talk about it, and as she looked around she realised no one was going to acknowledge it, even that guard had brushed her off as quickly as he could. Was that sort of thing a regular occurrence in Diamond City?

“Nani ni shimasu ka?" The only thing the proctron ever said.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the stuff,” MacCready sat on the stool.

"Nani ni shimasu ka?" 

“You’re damn right I’ll have two servings!” he joked pounding a fist on the counter.

She left him to it and wandered around the market, the crazy lady who had accused her of being a synth looked cautiously around, someone needed to get that woman some Jet. 

Mama Murphy had sent them here…What or who was she supposed to find? That reporter was only down the path…if anyone knew anything it would be her. But that would mean getting dragged into the interview Piper was so desperate to do and she still hadn’t thought about what she was going to say.

“Get your swatters here!” shouted an elderly man wearing a baseball uniform and holding a baseball bat in his hand.

“What’s a swatter?” she shouted as she walked closer to him. The man laughed.

“A rookie, eh? A Swatter, my friend, is a Diamond City tradition.” He cleared his throat. In that instant, she knew the next words out of his mouth were going to be a lie. “See, it used to be that this whole place was a stadium. And two teams would meet and play a game called baseball.” 

_Okay, maybe not._

“One team would beat the other team to death with things called baseball bats, and the best bats were called Swatters. True fact.” 

_Ah, there it was._

“Oh really?” she indulged him. “What kind of teams were there?”

“There was the Diamond City Demolishers. Big brutes of guys. Played in full power armour with special pneumatic arm parts for swinging,” he certainly put the effort in. “Then you had the Lexington Ladies. An all female team, with coach Bloody Mary Sue at the helm. Highest kill count in the leagues. I could spend all day talking about the Concord Crushers or the Quincy Killmeisters, but you get the idea, it was a hell of a sport.”

“That’s not how baseball was played.”

“That right, Little Miss Smarty Pants? If you’re such an expert, how do you think it was played?”

“The teams would also beat the spectators to death,” she stated, her face completely straight. “That’s how the term ‘spectator sport’ got started,” she wagged her finger knowingly at him.

“Something tells me you’re making that up,” laughed MacCready when he was suddenly next to her. Her and Moe’s little back and forth had evidently peaked his interest.

“Yeah…I like my version better. Now, can I interest you in these genuine, authentic custom-made hickory Swatters?” 

“I’m okay, thanks,” what good was a _baseball bat_? Moe tutted and shook his head. 

“I could really go for a drink right now,” whined MacCready who was met with a stern expression he couldn’t see but definitely felt penetrating him. “What?”

She knew MacCready knew the reason why they were there, she’d wasted a week already, she needed as many leads as she could get.

“Look, I know we were sent here and all but since we’ve no idea what we’re looking for, how about we just stop and _think_ for a few hours?”

Translation: she’d dragged him across the Commonwealth without stopping for breath and he needed to relax. 

“Okay, we’ll sit and make a plan. But two hours, that’s it, RJ, okay?”

He nodded frantically and jogged away from her. Not one to follow so willingly, she stayed in the market place.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“ _Two hours,_ RJ.”

“I heard you the first time,” he smirked as he walked her towards the Dugout Inn.

It was mutually agreed that MacCready would never be allowed to make a decision again.

The Dugout Inn was noisy like the Third Rail but it was nowhere near as lively.

"MacCready! Is good to see you, tovarisch. How is Lucy? She still as beautiful as I remember?" shouted the barman when he noticed them.

"No...she didn’t make it, Vadim,” he spoke with sadness and she wondered who Lucy was.

After he put his foot in his mouth with MacCready, the bartender had turned his attention to her, coaxing her into a conversation about the DJ of Diamond City Radio. She never really noticed, travelling the Commonwealth stealthily didn’t leave them a lot of chances to listen to the radio.

“He makes me want to go back in time and prevent radio from ever being invented.”

“Vadim…” his brother protested, which only made the man angrier.

“It’s true. Don’t you listen to my brother,” waving a dismissive hand towards him. She didn’t feel abundantly threatened, but was cautious nonetheless. “Someone needs to get rid of him. We need a new DJ for the radio. I don’t think many would notice if he…you know,” he leant forward, his forearm rested on the bar, “disappeared.”

“You’re not serious?” she raised an eyebrow. This man hardly looked the type to hire a contract killer, especially over something as trivial as a radio host.

“Alright, I’m going to stop you there, we’re not amateurs you know.” It seemed MacCready was taking pleasure in their conversation. She suspected that he too thought Vadim was talking crap.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Vadim’s brother had clearly had enough. “Vadim isn’t serious. He doesn’t really want to kill Travis. We were just joking around a bit,” he apologised.

“It’s true.” Vadim still found it quite amusing. “Only jokes, Travis is a good friend. Yefim and I worry about him.”

“Poor Travis…” Yefim continued. “He means well, but he does not have the confidence he needs for that job. Or anything else, really. And so he is always awkward. He does not believe in himself, you see? He expects he will fail at everything, and so he does.”

_Please get to the point already_

The sigh that escaped MacCready told her he felt the same.

“I tell Yefim that I have plan. He does not believe me. You, you and I work on plan,” he turned to his brother. “Go on, spoilsport. Go back to working. We will figure out how to help Travis,” Yefim walked away and Vadim turned his attention back to the pair of them. “Come. Meet me in back room. We discuss plan.”

She waited until Vadim had walked completely out of sight before following when a hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Are you sure about this, boss? Seems a waste of our talent.”

“It’s okay, MacCready, I’ll get you your caps. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

* * * *

_To be, or not to be: that is the question._

 

Although in this particular instance it was a case of to do or not to do. Like, _do_ find that synth Dez was bitching about and _do not_ follow this woman anymore than is deemed sane. Though, in actuality, he’d past that point the second he followed her to Diamond City the first time.

He watched her walk around the market place, even got a front row seat for her little conversation with the guy that sells baseball bats, which had been funny to witness, so funny he had to stifle the laugh that would have brought attention to him.

Then she met up with the kid again and he watched as they walked towards the Dugout Inn. _Do not follow them_ , he kept telling himself even as he watched his feet move forward; annoyed that they still weren’t listening to the rest of him.

He managed to stop himself from going inside, there was only one reason a woman like her would stay in a place like that and he’d rather not witness the two of them skulk off to the backroom to do what everyone else did in the privacy of their own room.

News travelled fast across the Commonwealth, like a giant game of Chinese whispers, and she’d been inside for less than two minutes before people were rushing out, saying something was going down in the Dugout. That was his first clue, nothing ever happened in Diamond City; there was no way he was missing out.

_You should really leave her alone_ he told himself as he removed the helmet on his head and put his sunglass back in their rightful place.

_Seriously, just leave her alone_. The guard uniform was off, he stood in his t-shirt and jeans and he put the pompadour wig on his head as he let out a sigh of defeat. 

Maybe he’d just tell Dez he couldn’t find the synth, because really he didn’t want to. Just live and let live. No one knew there was a synth living in Diamond City, otherwise it would have been their brains all over the ground and not those of a human, sure he’d step in if that fact was to change but until then, he had more important things to be getting on with.

When he stepped into the Dugout that evening, he received another clue in the form of Travis, the meekly radio host, and the question of what the hell was going on entered his head. 

Two men were stood close to the kid, not saying a word until, as if on cue, his favourite Vault Dweller walked into the room and the two men zoned in on Travis. He was a small kid who couldn’t control the shaking of his body as he tried desperately to defend himself against the man berating him.

“I’m just…I’m only here for a drink.” He wondered if Travis was about to piss his pants.

“Aww, what’s wrong? Not so tough once you’re not on the air?” 

The two men had to have been hired to do what they were doing, they also had to be the worse actors he’d ever seen.

“You tell ‘im!”

Leave it to his new obsession to try and defuse the situation. She walked over to Travis, put a hand on his shoulder and, with what sounded like genuine concern, asked him if everything was okay.

“Does it look okay?” he shook. “Because…no, it’s not. I don’t…I have no idea what I did to deserve this. I just wish they’d go away…”

“Why don’t you do something about it? Stop being a coward!”

Not quite an inspirational speech that would stand the test of time but it seemed to work, considering Travis was quick to tell her he wasn’t a coward. With so much confidence that maybe he actually believed himself.

“Well, I got your back, Travis.”

“Okay…if you think it’ll work.”

“Of course it will, stop whining already. Oof." It was time for the mercenary to throw in his two caps, and he couldn’t hide the smug look on his face when he watched her elbow the kid in the ribs.

“You say something?” spoke Bull.

“I said…I said that’s enough! Leave me alone!” Bull just laughed at him.

“Look at you…Lemme think about that for a second…Nah, I don’t think so.”

“I…I mean it! Leave me alone…”

“Sounds like you were thinking about saying ‘or else’. Were ya, Travis? Were you gonna say ‘or else’? I’m wonderin’ what comes after that. What’re you gonna do, little man?” 

He wouldn’t say the place erupted into chaos, but everyone was definitely surprised when Travis suddenly lunged at Bull in an attempt to knock him down but Bull stood strong and Travis simply bounced off him and fell to the ground.

“Get the hell up, man!” 

He stood and watched from the sidelines as she bent down to help the kid get back on his feet and then land a supporting hand on his shoulder.

“You got this, Travis!” said the lie right out of her mouth.

Given the fact this was an obviously fixed fight, sure, the kid had all the chance in the world to win. But if this was real, Travis wouldn’t last two seconds, the Commonwealth chewed up and spit out people like him.

Travis raised two fists at Bull whilst she turned to Gouger, who, with one light tap to the jaw fell to the ground. 

_Seriously? One fake punch and you’re down? So much for committing to the role._ There are some things you just can’t teach people.

It wasn’t long before Bull too was on the floor and the two of them left with their tails between their legs.

“I…I can’t believe it. We did it!” Travis was actually jumping, a huge smile on his face and his hands in the air. 

_Trust me, Travis, I think everyone’s surprised you did it._ Except him, because he knew it was a rigged fight.

“Never doubt me.”

“I…I won’t. I just never thought I could do…well do anything like that! That was crazy!” He calmed himself down. “Hey, listen, I, uhh…thanks. That was, well it was really something. I think maybe I should lie down now.” In fairness the kid did look like he was going to collapse.

Okay, so he’d just watched her take part in a rigged fight for an unknown reason, not huge on the ‘getting to know you’ scale but still, it was probably worth noting down anyway. And by ‘noting down’ he means storing it away mentally for an undetermined amount of time because the last thing he’d do is leave a paper trail.

* * * *

_Words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find._

 

"This is my answer to your 'what's the worst that could happen' comment earlier." 

She should long ago be tucked up in a semi-comfortable bed and in the middle of having a nightmare about a certain bald, scarred man. Instead, it was two in the morning and her and MacCready were on their way to Beantown Brewery. Meeting Vadim in the backroom had led him to discuss his idea to get Travis in a fake fight, it seemed like a good idea - there was nothing quite like a fist fight to lift a man’s ego - but that then led to her trying to convince the waitress at the Dugout to meet with Travis because they both liked each other. Next thing she knew, Vadim had been kidnapped by the two men he had hired to take a dive. It wasn’t quite ironic but she definitely felt karma was playing a role. She’d managed to avoid her own so far, or was this it? Being frozen and walking out into the post apocalyptic world she once had to call home? Everyone she had ever known, good or bad, were dead, wasn’t she supposed to be mourning them somehow? In her old world, sentiment had never had its place but nothing existed of it anymore, sure the layout of the land was basically the same but there was so many new obstacles now. She was grateful for MacCready, deep down she knew she wouldn’t have got this far without him.

MacCready was a kid, maybe only a few years younger than her, and, yes, he’d gone through his share of hardships but he still had a childlike wonder about him, something she had literally beaten out of her when she was an infant. There was a kindness to her smile when she watched moments like these and despite his whines of her picking up ‘worthless crap’, he was happy to accompany her. Every so often, MacCready would try to initiate conversation but each time he would simply open his mouth, close it again and turn away. He wanted to ask her a favour but she didn’t push, this time she didn’t need to, MacCready would ask when he was ready. 

She only wanted to tell Travis that Vadim had been kidnapped, she didn’t for one second think he’d actually suggest coming with them. It wasn’t a good idea, but apparently he was going whether he followed them or not because he was stood outside the door to the brewery, waiting for them, still wearing the same outfit he wore in the Dugout and holding a pistol he was too weak to carry with one hand.

She suggested Travis stay outside, it sounded like she was being kind but she was just being tactical, Travis may have had a gun but he was still a civilian.

“No…no, I…I wanna help,” his voice full of uncertainty.

“Fine, but stay behind me, Travis.” she commanded. For his own safety more than anything.

“Stay behind me too, I don’t fancy having to wash your blood off my clothes.” MacCready wasn’t trying to help.

_Damn it, this kid does not listen._

“When I say stay behind me,” she had pulled him down and back for the umpteenth time, “I don’t mean walk blindly ahead, I mean stay the fuck behind me, Travis. If you’re looking to get shot I’ll do it myself. Understood?” He sheepishly nodded and crouched down behind MacCready.

“Well done, boss, I thought the kid was gonna get his head blown off.”

“Oh, there’s still time for that.” MacCready wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not. 

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” whispered a terrified Travis.

“Not likely. Chances are at least one of us won’t make it out of this alive.” _Because I’m probably going to kill you_ , she added silently. Travis gave out a terrified whimper.

“Don’t lie to the guy, sheesh, truth is…we’ll probably all be killed,” smiled MacCready, tapping his cap at her, he was having too much fun. 

“You’re an idiot,” she stated as she untied Vadim and helped him to his feet. “You both are.” It wasn’t aimed at Travis as much as it was aimed at his brother, Yefim.

“I can’t believe the kid still thanked you,” commented MacCready as they walked a few paces behind. She groaned as she eyed the time on her Pip-Boy. “4am! Damn - darn. I should be asleep dreaming of the Silver Shroud right now,” he moaned, finishing with a yawn.

“If we didn’t have to make sure Vadim and Travis stay alive then I would take you to a settlement that Preston mentioned.”

“Well, I’m sure the people there would be _honoured_ to get a visit from the General herself!” he joked.

“I swear, RJ, one of these days I’m going to stab you in your sleep.” MacCready put on the biggest smile he could muster.

“Oh, come on, boss, you’d never had gotten this far without me,” fishing.

“That remains to be seen. It would certainly be quieter.’

Another three hours past before they were safely back in Diamond City. She eyed the time on her Pip-Boy, 7am, and Nat was already outside, waving a new article.

“How tired are you?” she inquired.

“On a scale of one to ten? About an eleven. Why?”

She had given it some thought, and given what she’d just been through, she wasn’t going to come back to the City any time soon, if Piper wanted that interview…well, there was no time like the present. She casually walked him towards Publick Occurrences.

“Don’t laugh and don’t say a damn word. Understood?” she waited for MacCready to nod before opening the door and walking into the building.

“Finally dropped by, huh? How ya holdin’ up, Blue?” asked the dark haired reporter as she got up from the nearby couch. She could feel Piper’s eyes scanning her.

“Blue?” she asked inquisitively.

“Cause you’re a Vault Dweller?” She said confidently.

_How the double-fuck did she know that?_

“I know you’re not wearing the blue jumpsuit right now, but the Pip-Boy is a dead giveaway. Can’t say you have that ‘fish out of water look’ the others have but still.” She silently cursed her Pip-Boy, though she knew she probably owed her life to it. In a radioactive wasteland the geiger counter came in real handy. “So, here’s the deal. I want an interview. Your life story in print.” 

_Over my dead body._

“I think it’s time Diamond City had a little outside perspective on the Commonwealth.”

She did agree with her on that. 

“What kind of interview is this gonna be?”

“I ask you who you are, get your opinion on life out there, and maybe load up a few tough question and keep it interesting. What do you say?”

“Okay, Piper, I’m in,” she gave a small nudge to MacCready. _Prepare yourself for the most ridiculous lie ever told kid._

“Good, so let’s get down to business.”

It wasn’t until they got outside that MacCready let out the laugh he had held in since the moment she had responded to Piper’s questions, falling to the ground and gasping for air. She herself was mildly amused but in the pit of her stomach she just felt awful. The Institute…what was their role in the whole thing? No one seemed to know _anything_ about them, even Piper, a reporter hell bent on exposing them, knew almost nothing.

She first heard them mentioned when she left Goodneighbor, Hancock was giving a speech to a growing crowd. A voice that seemed mildly familiar shouted out ‘the Institute’ to every question the Mayor shouted down to the crowd, earning himself some Jet in the process apparently. How would the Institute know about a child that was born two centuries ago? 

The bald head and scar flashed across her eyes and her hand instinctively reached for Fury. Just as she went to pull it out of her holster, a hand took it away whilst another grabbed her free hand and brought them together. This was the most affectionate thing anyone had done since she had stepped out of the vault, she couldn’t control the flutter of her eyelids and the smile on her face. It was weird but not necessarily uncomfortable, definitely something she wasn’t used to. How long had he been holding her hands?

“So,” MacCready cleared his throat and released her hands from his. “You impressed yet? I told you I was a damn good shot.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got skills…I’m sure you know talent when you see it.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she smiled. She appreciated his efforts in trying to distract her and to some degree it was working.

“There you go. That wasn’t too hard to admit, was it?” he smiled back. “I’m completely self-taught, you know. Picked up a sniper rifle when I was ten and I never looked back.” It suddenly explained his tendency to hold back or choose to shot from a higher vantage point. “I had to come up with every trick in the book to survive the Capital Wasteland”

“What were you doing in the Capital Wasteland?” He was saying something real, it had been a while since they had done that. They’d barely had time to stop, let alone talk.

“I was born there,” he still had hold of one of her hands as he walked her back towards the Dugout. “Lived underground in a place called Little Lamplight with a bunch of other kids. Left there when I was around sixteen." She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “We kind of had a policy there, no adults. When you were sixteen, you packed up and left.” He said it so matter-of-factly that she actually admired him, he was being nostalgic but there was very little sentiment there; she knew what that was like. “Having adults around was something we couldn’t trust. I know it sounds crazy.”

“Believe me, it’s doesn’t sounds crazy at all. You do what you need to survive.”

And most of the adults she knew when she was a kid didn’t exactly treat her nicely either, from what she could piece together.

“Can you believe I was actually the Mayor for a while? Me?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“I knew there was something behind your laugh in Sanctuary. So, when you were daydreaming, was it about Little Lamplight?” He gave a half nod and a small smile.

“Anyway, when I hit sixteen, I ended up wandering the Capital Wasteland for a while. Took the old job here and there, but things were pretty hot with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show." He stared at her frantically, trying to find any change in her body to see if she had reacted to their mention, she conducted herself like a BoS soldier quite a lot, but as usual she showed nothing. “So, I hitched a ride with a caravan, made my way north and ended up here. Made a pretty decent name for myself before I heard that the Gunners needed some sharpshooters. Biggest mistake of my life.” She put her free hand encouragingly on top of his, a silent invitation to continue. “They were animals. Killed anything that moved if it got in their way.” The complete opposite of her. “I went with it for a while because the caps were good, but, I dunno, I guess it started to catch up with me…so I quit.” There was a mixture of pride and relief as he spoke. “Which pretty much brings us to now. So, there you have it, my whole life in a nutshell.” She read the nervous tone of his body, the way his eyes darted to everywhere but her. He was feeling exposed.

“Sounds like the road can be a lonely place,” she of all people knew that, “until you meet someone to share it with."

“I…Well, I never thought of it that way.” MacCready’s eyebrows disappeared behind his cap in shock and she realised he’d read more into her words than she had intended. Oh well, it was too late to take it back now. “Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable telling you all this. Look, I know I tend to be a pain in the ass…I mean, I know I tend to be arrogant and I come off like I want to be alone.” He took a deep breath. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me. Now that we’ve been travelling together for a while, I’m beginning to realise how much I missed having someone I could depend on.” She couldn't empathise with him at all, she rarely depended on anyone but herself. “I just wanted you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to see that it stays this way.”

Maybe she’d got it wrong, maybe he wasn’t going to kill her, not any time soon at least and, as odd as it felt, she found herself trusting him. Just a little. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to say, MacCready had caught her off guard, she hadn’t exactly prepared for him to lay his childhood out in front of her in the middle of the city. 

They should have been heading towards the lead Piper had given them, a detective living in town, but she knew they’d be useless until they got some rest so she had no choice but to agree with MacCready’s suggestion of staying.

“I’ll get us a room shall I, General?”

“Sleep with one eye open,£ RJ,” she commented, twirling her combat knife in her hand. She saw MacCready’s shoulders rise and shake as he stifled his laughter. She leant her head back over the top of the chair, quite content to fall asleep where she sat but was rudely interrupted when MacCready kicked her chair and jiggled the room key in his hand. She would grab a few hours sleep then try the detective agency. It was the name, Valentine, why on earth did it sound so familiar? Like it was locked away in a memory too far gone to focus on.

She noticed that there was only one bed but MacCready didn’t comment so she kept her mouth shut. She removed her armour in silence whilst he removed his dust jacket and sat on the chair to begin removing his boots.

“I’d walk a hundred miles if I knew there was a pile of caps at the end,” but as he rubbed his bare feet she doubted he’d be able to walk anywhere right now.

“I’m sorry, RJ,” she took a deep breath and removed the hat from her head. 

_One step at a time_.

She panicked when she first saw the white streaks in her hair, she’d been frozen, she couldn’t have possibly aged…the rest of her hadn’t. Away from prying eyes she had examined it every day, the whiteness had been increasing and had started to curl upwards, it looked fucking ridiculous; long black hair with white curls.

Another deep breath and she took off her sunglasses and began to undo the bandana from around her face. “Next time I’ll just say no.”

“Yeah…but you won’t bo-“ his sentence was short lived as he realised he was looking at face, uncovered.

_Goddamn_

She was young, maybe a little older than him, but she certainly didn’t look it. She had straight black hair that fell down to her waist, thick white curls that fell short than the rest of it. For a woman who never showed her face, she certainly wore a lot of makeup; thick black lines accentuated her eyes which were bright (like ridiculously bright) green…like emeralds. Her nose was cute; understated. And deep red lips full enough to cause her to have a natural pout, her skin was almost as pale as porcelain with a smoothness to match and her bone structure reminded him of the women he’d seen in prewar magazines. And not the fashion catalogues either; the dirty ones he’d found in that drug den…

“Are you okay?”

You’d think she’d be used to it by now, everyone had the same reaction - just stared at her speechless for a while. MacCready didn’t respond, she could feel his eyes study over every feature they could find and she starting to regret her actions already.

“Wow…” the word left his mouth in a breath, as if he’d been holding onto it the whole time.

“What?” she asked, knowing full well what he was commenting on.

“You’ve just…” he sat on the edge of the bed, close to her but still far enough away to feel comfortable, “I’ve never seen your face before…and just…wow!” 

There was no woman alive in the Commonwealth that looked like the one sat across from him. Unique…rare. 

The soft, almost delicate, look of her face was the complete opposite to her deadly nature. He pondered for a moment as to why she didn’t use her looks more to get her way…but her words did the part regardless. 

“RJ.” She shuffled across the bed and sat next to him, she grabbed a hand from his lap and wrapped her fingers around his. “You opened yourself up to me. I guess I thought I’d share something too,” she gave a weak smile.

“You’re sharing your _face_ with me?” his voice was a mixture of confusion and appreciation.

“It’s all I can offer you right now,” defeat in her voice she let go of his hand but to her surprise MacCready frantically grabbed it again. She looked at him and for the first time he got to look at her, she felt his grip tighten as his eyes trailed over her face and darkness swelled in his eyes. She’d recognise that look anywhere, “RJ…do you… _want_ me?” 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and then his confident grew.

“Getting haggled down to a hundred caps and walking the entire length of the Commonwealth,” he stood from the edge of the bed and turned to face her, positioning himself between her legs. “by a woman with a face like that?” Without warning, he pushed her body until her back was flat on the bed. “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

His mouth crashed down onto hers, she knew she should have stopped him, shouldn’t have let it go further, she hired him to do a job…but damn, an adrenaline rush could only do so much, and it had been an age since she had a release like this.

Her animalistic urges were spurred on by the smell of whiskey and smoke (though how that smell came about she’d never know, she hadn’t seen him smoke once) and she tangled her own tongue with his.

His tongue continued to search her mouth as his fingers searched for the zip of her jumpsuit. One gentle tug and the sound of the zip descending hit her right at the core, she hissed as the cold air hit her newly exposed skin, which soon became a moan of arousal as MacCready began to kiss her bare skin, travelling down her body as he pushed her jumpsuit further down. 

She let out a breathy laugh as she peeled his hat off his head and flung it across the room before carding her fingers through his hair. 

He took note of the small drawing on her thigh, a question for later…

MacCready’s hand cupped her underwear and she knew that despite the layer of fabric he would feel how wet she was. She got ridiculously aroused when she was doing the impossible and she was desperate for a release. With one swift movement he removed her underwear and positioned his head right in front of her.

“Been that long, boss?” he chuckled. As his warm breath hit her skin she quivered.

_Only about two hundred years._

She let out a relaxed gasp which changed to a loud whimper as his tongue hit her clit. Her breathing fluctuated as MacCready’s tongue made expert circles on her. A low growl left her uncontrollably when she felt him run a finger up and down against her. A wave of pleasure caused her entire body to shiver. 

“You like that?” He brought his mouth regretfully away from her just to ask, she responded by pushing his head back onto her. She felt the usual sense of orgasm approach as his tongue attacked her clit like a vertibird. Her thighs tightened around his head, locking him in place and with one lick after another, her body convulsed on the bed.

“Fuck!” she moaned at the peak of her orgasm. MacCready’s tongue didn’t stop but his rhythm slowed to help her ride it out. She didn’t know what caused her to come so quickly, then again, it had been a couple of centuries since her last orgasm.

MacCready pushed himself up and balanced his body weight on top of her, his mouth came crashing down on to her once again. She could taste herself on his tongue, a fact that seemed to further arouse the two of them, if the moan MacCready just gave was any indication. She reached her hand down to his trousers, feeling his readiness for her underneath and before a sane voice told her to stop, and before either of them could regret their decision, she freed his erection from his trousers, used her legs to push his trousers down to his knees and guided him to her entrance, the wetness of her cunt inviting him in and he took the silent invitation with gusto. She needed a few moments to adjust comfortably, she eyed MacCready cautiously as she realised he was shaking above her, almost terrified to move, his knuckles had turned white as he held up his own bodyweight.

“RJ…” she reassuringly put her hand on his chest. “are you okay?” 

His entire body was tensed, maybe he was regretting it already. She’d be okay with that, sure her ego would be a little bruised (because no one ever said no to her) but she could understand and as long as he still wanted to do the job he was hired for? Well, no harm, no foul.

It took all his strength just to nod his head, he let out a frustrated breath and rested his head on his forearm.

“It’s just- _ah Jesus_.” 

A woman as beautiful as the woman underneath him probably had her pick of men whilst down in the vault. It was impossible for her to be this tight. And the feel of her walls pulsating around him from her previous orgasm was not helping.

_Time to switch it up._

He couldn’t look at her, she was irresistible enough as it was, but every time he made the slightest movement, her face would contort into the sexiest expression he’d ever seen.

She let out a gasp of surprise as he flipped her on to her stomach. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her up onto her knees and without warning, he buried himself inside her once more. She would never admit it to him out loud but she loved this new side of him, he was domineering and the way he was taking control was a turn on she didn’t expect herself to have, though she wasn’t exactly surprised, being in control was her life, it only made sense that the complete opposite would have an effect on her. 

Eighteen months sleeping with a man she hated, a man that only ever searched for his own end never hers. It had been so long since she’d had sex she actually enjoyed and she was savouring every movement MacCready made behind her; every electric current that coursed through her veins. He’d placed a hand on her shoulder to brace himself as he thrust in and out of her. The softness of the radio was drowned out by the noises of their skin slapping against each other and their sexual gasps. As MacCready pushed towards her, she pushed further back into him, burying him as deep in her as he could go, she felt MacCready’s thighs quiver against her own. He was close. His pace quickened, almost to the point of painful and she bucked as his hand reached around and circled her clit. A lump formed in her body, starting in her brain stem and her head dropped as the lump moved slowly down her spine. Intensity growing as it travelled down. She screamed against him as the lump reached the base of her core and exploded, the hand against her clit moved with vigour and her vision whitened.

“Fuck…boss.” MacCready pulled out of her and she felt his essence explode on her back, her legs shook as she collapsed face down onto the bed, she momentarily forgot about the substance on her back until she felt MacCready wipe a cloth over her, when he was done she turned to her side and a few second later, she felt MacCready tuck himself around her. The high of orgasm helped her ignore how uncomfortable she felt when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, she was used to sex but was rarely intimate afterwards. Their breathing eventually steadied out and the sound of the radio helped them drift off to sleep.

MacCready didn’t open his eyes immediately, he felt the lump of something next to him and blindly trailed his fingers over whatever it was. He cautiously opened one eye and saw the boss’ sleeping body wrapped in his arms.

_Shit. I am so fucking fired._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading xx


	5. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never liked people seeing this side of her, the killer she had been trained to be. She learnt to accept who she was deep down a long time ago, but other people were a little less understanding. If they only knew about her past…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains spoilers for the quests Unlikely Valentine and Kid in the Fridge, with a twist XD
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Monster - Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mjlM_RnsVE))

  _Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall._

 

She was still there when he woke up again, and he woke up naturally, not by her punching him really hard in the face. Maybe he wasn’t out of a job after all. Besides, she could hardly blame him, he was tired and exhausted, two seconds away from falling asleep and then she showed him her face. The face that got his blood pumping and helped him find a surge of energy that could only be used for one thing.

When she finally did wake up, she didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she was semi-naked, he completely, instead she got dressed and told him they were going to try Valentine’s office again. On the inside he was surprised that they weren’t even going to talk about it, externally he was getting his bare ass out of bed and getting dressed too.

On the way out Vadim caught his eye, giving him the sort of look that men only gave each other when they know someone just got lucky. Lucky…probably not the word he’d use, but now that he’d thought about it, a woman as stunning as her…Yeah, he was real lucky that he got the chance whilst he had it. It wasn’t like it was going to happen again, it was just one of those things people did, nice but never to be repeated.

“The Commonwealth can eat a nuke,” she moaned as they entered the Fens.

She was used to difficult missions but it was getting ridiculous, she’d jump through one hoop just to be confronted by a dozen more and it was as though everyone in the Commonwealth needed help, she’d said yes too many times, to too many people, and now she was weeks behind her initial search for Shaun. Piper had suggested she go see Nick Valentine, a detective in Diamond City, if anyone could help her it’d be him but her search for Valentine was just as fruitless as every other attempt she had made. They had opened the door to the agency only to have Valentine’s receptionist, Ellie, tell them he hadn’t been seen in months.

“I think you’re about two hundred years too late, boss,” joked MacCready. She sat on the ground and took the map out of her pack. She found the quickest and safest route and copied it into her Pip-Boy before putting the map away and standing up. Park Street Station wasn’t too far away from the City, even travelling through the mutant-infested Commonwealth they’d make it in a matter of hours.

“At journey’s end, follow the…lantern?” she read questionably, looking at MacCready for confirmation.

“That’s a sign from your local synth liberationist group, also known as the Railroad,” he replied. “They like to believe that gen. three synths are like sentinel beings that the Institute have forced to become slaves.”

“Is this the part where you finally tell me what a synth is?”

“ _Synth-_ etic people, metal and electricity instead of flesh and bone.”

So, essentially the Institute made robots for a living. Big deal, people had been doing that long before the Great War.

“I don’t get it though,” she commented as they opened the door to the station. “They’re just robots,  right? I mean, surely people can _see_ the difference.”

“You’re talking about gen. ones and twos, they’re the early versions. Gen. threes though,” he shuddered at the idea, “are indistinguishable from the real humans. People are shi-terrified, the Institute are snatching up people and replacing them with synths and no one knows why. The boogeyman of the Commonwealth.”

And that was all anyone ever said when it came to the Institute.

“Surely the things out in the Commonwealth are scarier?” she asked as they slowly descended the stairs.

“Yeah, but they know about that! Hardly anyone knows the Institute and they know even less about what their end game is. An enemy you can’t see is worse than one you encounter every day, no?”

Just as she was about to respond they heard low voices.

“I’m telling you, joining Skinny Malone’s crew was the best decision we ever made.”

She signalled for MacCready to stop, in unison they crouched to the ground. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then straight in front of them to where the voice had originated, put her finger to her lips and then signalled for them to move forward. She stopped just before the last step and put the scope of Relentless to her eye, she took a deep breath and pulled the trigger, once, twice and then a third time.

Two of the three triggermen had fallen with ease but, due to their position, she only managed to shoot the last one in the leg, he’d fallen to the ground and blood poured over the ground. She walked towards him, kicking the machine-gun away from him when he reached for it.

There was never any need for emotions in her old life, but evidently the Commonwealth didn’t give two fucks about what she needed. She looked around at the discarded bodies on the station floor, they were all dressed like the gangsters of her time and, as if a switch flicked in her head, she saw the bodies of her neighbours and the injured ghoul in front of her was suddenly wearing Nathaniel’s face.

She’d felt it once before, back in Goodneighbor, in the Rexford, when she almost shot the Vault-Tec guy in the face. Anger. But it was stronger than that, almost primal and she could feel it growing with every second.

Rage.

“You won’t get out of here alive,” he commented through gritted teeth, holding his leg as he rocked back and forth from the pain. He looked like the ghouls she'd had encountered in Goodneighbor.

“Neither will you,” she held his head, forcing him to look at her. A curled, evil smile spread under her bandana and she took the combat knife out of her pocket and stabbed it into his jugular. A crimson fountain erupted when she removed her knife, she took her hand off his head and his limp body fell back onto the ground. She could never go back and kill Nathaniel herself, this was about as close as she was ever going to get.

“I put him out of his pain,” she responded coldly to the open mouthed expression on MacCready's face. 

She was charging ahead and almost fell down the stairs when her feet suddenly stopped.

_Count the shadows_. A voice told her.

She put her finger to her lip once more and concentrated to listen. MacCready stayed awkwardly, waiting for her to finish.

“There’s two to the north, four southwest and just one northwest.”

“How the hell do you know that?” he exclaimed in his quietest voice. “There’s no way we can take them all out from here.”

He was right, they were in an ideal position but none of the triggermen passed close enough for her to get a clean shot. A thousand possibilities ran through her mind at once, this was why they prepared for every eventuality.

“I’ve got an idea, just wait here.” MacCready watched anxiously as she made her way down the stairs, leaving a mine on every third step, he stopped a gasp of shock leaving him as she reached the bottom of the stairs and placed three more mines, sliding a fourth across the ground. She silently moved backwards up to MacCready.

“So, what, we’re just going to wait here and hope they all come up the stairs at once?”

“Say anything and I will stab you,” she took a deep breath, remembered the voice of the triggerman she’d just _murdered_ and tried her best to emulate it.

“You guys better come up here. Sounds like trouble’s on its way!” Her throat stung as she spoke gruffly.

“What?” he laughed, she elbowed him in the ribs. “Same spot every damn time.” He winced.

It was a cheap shot but it still had the desired effect, all seven triggermen walked in line towards the stairs. MacCready and her backed up further into the shadows, the small beep of a mine filled the silence.

“Watch out!” one of them warned a little too late. A microsecond later one mine exploded and set off the chain reaction she had been anticipating.

“I gotta say, boss,” he begun as they stood straight. “That was pretty cool.”

They travelled deeper into the station, they could have avoided a few of them but she was way past sneaking around. She loved the sound of bones breaking as the butt of her gun smashed against their faces, not giving two shits about the blood that splattered over her. She’d forgotten that MacCready was with her. After twenty minutes they found themselves outside the entrance to Vault 114. She was uncharacteristically apprehensive as she stared up at the giant metal door, she stood by the controls with the extension lead of her Pip-Boy delicately in her hand. The only difference from the vault she had come out of was the giant ’114’ written in black on the front.

“You okay?” she could hear the silent ‘boss’ in his sentence.

She felt a ball of emotion in the pit of her stomach and hated herself because despite her attempts to ignore it, a tear ran down her cheek.

Sentiment.

She felt MacCready’s hand wrap hers and squeeze gently, she released herself from his grip immediately and cleared her throat as she plugged the Pip-Boy into the control panel. A few seconds of silence were followed by the loud cranking of the door as it opened.

“Is it weird for you being back in a vault?” MacCready asked after five minutes of silence. She just responded with a nod.

One day, maybe, she would tell him the whole story but here, in this place, was not the time. She threw a mine down the hole in the floor, waited for it to explode and then jumped down, almost landing on the bodies of the two dead triggermen.

“How many of those do you have on you?” He asked when he jumped down next to her.

“Now? Two.” 

He wanted to laugh, but it didn’t sound like a joke and he’d never seen her like this before, she was usually more cautious than this.

_Something must have got to her._

He preferred her acting like a lunatic, anything was better than the psychopath she’d suddenly turned into.

They met little to no resistance as they continued their journey through the vault. She kicked opened the door to a large room filled with stairs.

“‘Lousy cheating card shark’ I think were his exact words. Then he struck the name across three times.”

“Three strikes? In the black book? But I never…Oh no…I gotta smooth this over! Fast!”

She could hear both voices but only saw one man at the back of the room. As the man finished his sentence he begun to run in their direction. She raised her rifle, not taking a second to debate with MacCready whether she should take the shot or not, and pulled the trigger. One precise shot and the man was down. Confident that there were no more enemies in the room, she ran to where the man had been stood.

She was unsettled by the way the man’s skin shone in the light as she past the window, her fingers went to work on the terminal by the door and the familiar sense of satisfaction overwhelmed her as the door lock released.

“Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario. Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?

“What…are you?”

_He’s one of a kind,_ MacCready’s words came rushing back to her.

Valentine’s face was mostly plastic, with gaps that revealed the metal bonds and wires that made up his entire body. Meeting him did not help her figure out why his name seemed to affect her, and she knew she’d remember if she’d met someone that looked like the robot in front of her.

“I’m a detective,” he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, put it in his metal mouth and lit it. “Look, I know the skin and metal parts aint comforting, but it’s not important right now.”

“Oh, cool, a bobblehead!” exclaimed MacCready, completely unfazed by the metal man in the room with them.

“The only thing that matters is why you went to all this trouble to cut me loose. How’d you find me anyway?” Valentine continued.

“Your assistant, Ellie, told us where to find you.” MacCready answered, earning an odd look from both of them.

“Really? I think I should give that girl a raise,” he stated.

The sun almost blinded her when they resurfaced. After endless chit-chat they had followed Valentine through the rest of the Vault, successfully avoided a firefight with Malone and his gang. It had turned out that the woman Valentine had been searching for wasn’t the victim of a kidnapping but rather the new arm candy of Malone. She would have quite happily shoved a grenade in the brat's mouth and taped it shut but conserving ammo took precedence and after one seductive touch from her, Malone let them leave alive.

“I want you to come to my office in Diamond City,” begun Valentine. “Give me all the details. Besides, I think you’ve earned a chance to sit down and clear your head.”

“We’ll meet you there,” she responded, catching the inquisitive look on MacCready’s face out the corner of her eye.

She was just happy to have finally caught a break. Her and MacCready stood in place as they watched the old robot disappear from view. She elbowed MacCready in the ribs.

“Ow, motherfu-“ he squirmed. “What’d I do this time?” He asked, rubbing his ribs through his dust jacket.

“One of a kind? _Really?_ ” He just laughed. “Is he a synth?” she’d never seen one up close before.

“Yeah. You’ve got your Gen. twos and your Gen. threes, Nick’s…somewhere in the middle. Never seen another one like him,” he explained. “So, how come we didn’t follow him back?”

He trusted her judgement but still seemed to question every decision she made. In another world she would have shot a hired gun for questioning her but after everything that happened over the past few days, the little things - and not so little things - MacCready had opened up about and not to mention what had occurred last night, she couldn’t pretend he was just a hired mercenary anymore. 

The smart, more soldier like, thing to do would have been to escort Valentine back to Diamond City and talk to him there and then because she was finally one step closer to finding Shaun, she knew that, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. She had told MacCready that a DC guard had mentioned it, but the truth was she thought about the place as soon as they drew the map.

“Were you there when Preston talked about it? He called it a massacre for shit sake!” moaned MacCready, flinching at the curse he only just realised had slipped. “This is suicide, we’re actually going to die.” MacCready knew he might as well be speaking  to himself, he was the only one listening after all.

They were both on guard, travelling to Quincy meant passing through University Point and, according to the masses, the Institute’s synths were everywhere. MacCready was worried but the boss had decided she wanted to kill one, collect its components and study it.

_Now why would you wanna do something like that?_ MacCready had asked when she told him her plan. Not all of it, of course, he moaned enough when she took him all the way to Sanctuary, if he knew that they were trying to find a kid that may or may not be alive…he’d never shut up about it.

“Enemy presence detected,” came the mechanical voice. She used the gap in the wall to her advantage.

_Now that’s what a robot is._

For the first time in her entire life, she wondered if the two of them could take out that many enemies on their own.

“Want me to cause a distraction?” he whispered into her ear.

“Just…be careful.” That was proof right there that their relationship had shifted, she didn’t want him putting himself in unnecessary danger despite that being what he was hired to do. MacCready noticed her apprehension and squeezed her arm assuringly before running into an open space.

“Hey! Look over here. I’m a distraction!”

She couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face as MacCready waved his hands frantically in the air before having to dodge shots that the synths were firing at him, from her position behind the wall, she could see each one as they moved closer to MacCready.

“Will you just fire already!” he screamed as he run around in circles. She silently chuckled as she raised Relentless to her eye and shot the three most prominent synths. “Deus.”

_Try again._ She knew she’d counted more.

“Scratch that! Sin! Sin!” he screamed.

She couldn’t see anything from her vantage point and so, begrudgingly, put Relentless on her back and took Fire and Fury out of their holsters. She quickly targeted the closest synth and popped consecutive shots into it before it crumbled to the ground, broken wires creating sparks. She ran forward and slid across the ground, taking cover behind the wall of the ruined building, checking carefully around the corner to find the last six. She placed her pistols on the ground, swiftly put Relentless back in her hands and slid on the ground, between some nearby brush, when she spotted two of them on a balcony at the far most point of the building. Making as little movement as possible, she slipped the silencer out of her pocket and screwed it to the end before looking into the sight and taking two precise shots as quick as she could, the other synths only took notice when the mechanic bodies crunched as they fell over the balcony and hit the ground. She quickly threw her last mine as far as she could into the ruins and readied a grenade in her hand. 

_Four more to go_. 

She froze as one synth came running in her direction but it stepped directly onto the mine and pieces of it rained down. The voice of another came closer and she threw the grenade, she could hear MacCready fire several shots.

“Musketeers!”

She returned her sniper to her back and pushed herself to her feet, picking up her pistols as she went. The sun was beginning to set and she just wanted to get this over with, it wasn’t her normal strategy but nothing about her life was ever normal. She ran as quickly as she could, further into the ruins and dived behind an empty trade stand. The three synths had noticed her and were making their way in her direction, they ignoring the shots MacCready was taking at them. She poked her head above the counter and fired shots as quickly as she could. She ducked as lasers were fired in her direction, shooting blind. In the brief moment the lasers stopped, she stood up and fired at them. Eventually they fell to the ground in a metal heap.

She dived to the closest pile of broken pieces on the ground and began to rip it even further apart, collecting anything that looked like it was useful.

“Well, that was fun.” MacCready came running to her. “Lets…never do that again.” He was out of breath as he let out a nervous chuckle. She brushed the dust off her jumpsuit whilst trying to catch her breath. MacCready would just assume she was exhausted but she wasn’t, this was the first time she had fought a synth, let alone that many, and the intensity of the battle was exhilarating.

She resisted the urge to jump him there and then.

He’d said it before and he’ll say it again, _this woman is crazy_. Most people avoided synths if they could help it, but oh no, not the boss. She had to find one and study it. Study what exactly? He had no idea and that was after she’d already made the decision to drag him to Quincy, that had been overrun by Gunners, the last people he wanted to see. News travelled fast in the Commonwealth, no doubt every Gunner that called this place home knew about his altercation with Winlock and Barnes, there was a price on his head and he couldn’t help but feel like she was serving him up on a silver platter. 

She was breathing heavily, probably exhausted because he certainly was and he couldn’t help but watch her chest move up and down. Since waking up in the Dugout Inn, every time he looked at her, she was stood half naked, it was an image he couldn’t erase even if he wanted to. And he certainly didn’t want to, given the amount of crap she wore on her face, he was probably the first person outside of her vault to see it. He felt almost privileged at the idea.

She seemed calmer now they weren’t underground, not as though she wanted to kill everything they went past and he was relieved that she was a little more level headed when killing a town full of synths.

Call it destiny, call it coincidence, hell call it whatever you want but there was definitely something bigger at work. First there was finding her jumpsuit and weapons in perfect condition, then there was the voice in the wind. They were outside the boundaries of University Point when she heard a soft voice, MacCready’s complaining in her ear was too loud for her to hear anything else.

“Shh,” she interrupted, putting a finger to her already covered mouth, as well as another on his. She closed her eyes and focused, it was quiet and drowned in the wind but it was there, slowly she followed its direction and it became louder.

“I can hear it,” commented MacCready.

“Hello? Is someone there? Please help me!” The voice was young, scared.

“I think it’s…coming from that fridge.” MacCready spoke in disbelief.

“Hello?” she shouted as she walked towards it.

“Hello? Please get me out of here!” That voice…

“Who are you?” she asked, half curious, half hoping.

“My name’s Billy. Please I’ve been trapped in here for so long.”

“Billy?” Her eyes brightened at his voice. She tried and failed to jiggle the handle. “How did this happen?”

“I hid in here to get away from the bombs.”

_He’s been in there for two hundred years._ And she blamed herself because she was the one who told him to hide if he was ever in trouble. Promising that she’d find him, it wasn’t exactly a promise she expected to keep over two centuries.

“But there isn’t a handle on the inside. And it’s really dark in here.”

“I’m going to get you out,” she pointed her pistol, “just stand as far away from the door as you can,” she warned before shooting at the door.

Getting a kid out of a locked fridge…that was definitely in his top five of the weird shit he’s been a part of since coming to the Commonwealth and he’d never heard the boss sound so concerned before. But seriously, what are the odds of her knowing someone who’s been locked in a fridge for two hundred years?

One shot, that echoed off the walls of University Point, was all it took to break the door, which fell to the ground and the young, ghoulified, kid fell to his knees soon after. Then she did something he wasn’t expecting, she got down on her knees and pulled the very confused young boy into a hug.

“You’re okay,” she smiled as she pulled him closer to her chest. 

Billy looked up at her with confusion, she carefully peeled the sunglasses off her face so he could see her.

“A..Alice..?” she nodded. “What are you doing here?” 

“Finding you,” she smiled. “Just like I promised.”

“What happened to me?” His voice filled with fear and sadness as he looked down at his hands.

“You’re a ghoul Billy,” she took his flaky hands in hers and squeezed; her delicate gesture reminded MacCready of Lucy and he smiled at the memory. “When the bombs went off, some people survived the radiation but it affected their skin. Some went crazy,” he trembled in her arms but she had never lied to him (with the exception of her name). “But you’re one of the good ones Billy,” she added reassuringly.

“Everything looks different.” Billy commented as he looked around.

“It’s been two hundred years, Billy,” she shouldn’t have to be the one saying this to him. The sadness in his eyes were unbearable. But if anyone could even remotely understand what he was feeling, it was her.

“What about my parents? I need to get home,” he pleaded. She released one hand but kept hold of the other as she helped him to his feet, his knees weak from two hundred years of crouching. “Do you remember the way?”

“Of course I do. We can’t go through Quincy, it’s not safe anymore but we’ll go around. Okay?” He looked up at her and nodded with a smile on his face. “Just do what we tell you and you’ll be safe; I promise.”

As if the word ‘we’ had just brought attention to the fact MacCready was stood close by, Billy looked up at him and squeezed her hand.

“Who’s he?”

She looked up at MacCready. That was a good question, what the hell was he to her? She couldn't exactly tell Billy that he was just a hired mercenary, he was just a kid for crying out loud.

"This is RJ." MacCready smiled and knelt on one knee to greet the kid, he outstretched a hand, giving a delicate smile before Billy hesitantly shook it. "He's, he's my friend."

She sighed, a weight suddenly being lifted. She couldn't remember calling anyone 

“I thought I was your only friend,” smiled Billy as he cupped his hand back in hers.

“You’re different. You're special, Billy.” She put her index finger affectionately under his chin.

MacCready didn’t speak a word about what he had seen, even when he saw her looking down at Billy with adoration in her eyes, there was nothing he could say. Apparently the odds of her knowing him were better than he thought. 

_Seriously, who the fuck are you?_

Much to MacCready’s dismay, they were walking along the edge of the water.

“It’s not like we’re swimming across it,” she had defended but a King Radscorpion appeared from behind some tall grass and hissed at them.

“See, this is practically proving my point for me,” he commented as he lifted his rifle and took aim.

“Billy, get behind RJ.” She released his hand and Billy ran behind her partner. They both shot with incredible accuracy into the creature’s most vulnerable parts and it only took a few minutes to kill it.

After that the journey towards Billy’s house had been uneventful, for which she was grateful. Travelling through Quincy was not an option, even if she hadn’t had Billy with her, if it really was teeming with gunners than that was the last place she and MacCready should be walking through. She held his hand tightly as they stepped around every corner or over any unstable surface.

“Cute kid, is he for sale?” a suspicious man had asked her as they crossed paths.

“Never.” One hand hovered over her gun whilst the other pulled Billy closer to her.

_What kind of fucked up question is that?_

They were close, only three hundred more yards and she was acutely aware that the suspicious man had begun to follow them. As they reached the pathway to the house Billy released himself from her grip and sprinted ahead.

“Mum? Dad? Are you in there?” he shouted.

“Billy? Billy!” Carol exclaimed as Billy swung open the front door, she jogged to catch up. She removed her bandana and sunglasses before stepping through the door.

And there they were, ghoulified like Billy, their voices a little deeper than normal but it was still them. Carol in her signature blue dress and Matt, looking like he was about to go hunting for the afternoon. They were too busy fussing over the son they hadn’t seen for two centuries to even notice the awkward couple stood in the doorway.

“Son? Is it really you?” the two parents bent down and embraced their son, MacCready smiled.

Like Billy, they had become ghouls but none of it mattered, they were still a family.

“I missed you,” came his muffled voice filled with joy. “Alice helped me get here!” he revealed, peeling himself from their grip and bringing attention to the two figures in the doorway.

There was that name again. Alice _. Who the fuck is Alice?_

“Mr and Mrs Peabody,” she stepped forward, removed her hat so her hair cascaded down and bowed her head.

“Oh my god!” the shrill of her voice would have broken every window in the house if the shockwave hadn’t got to them first. Carol outstretched her arms and embraced her as she surged forward. “You changed your hair,” Carol held her forearms and smiled, she couldn’t help but smile back.

The only real family she knew...

”Well, it’s been a long time. A lot of things have changed.”

“You look the same as ever though! Why do you still cover your pretty face, dear? Two-hundred years and you’re still the same,” Carol hugged her once more before putting her focus back on Billy.

“Hey, you, in the house!” shouted a voice from outside, the same one that had asked if Billy was for sale. “I want those ghouls. Especially that kid!”

“Why does he want me?” panicked Billy. Her heart twisted when she saw the terror and sadness on Billy’s face.

“Oh my god! They want Billy!” shrieked Carol

“They won’t take us, Carol. At least not alive,” Matt responded; it wasn’t exactly reassuring but it was the truth. They never lied to each other.

“Billy get upstairs, now,” she commanded as she cocked her rifle, expelling an empty shell onto the floor. He ran past all of them and skipped every other step as he sprinted up the stairs. 

“You can give them up peaceful like, or die trying to save them.” The answer was obvious.

“Over my dead body!” she screamed out of the open door. “These people are under my protection,” she felt an overwhelming sense of deja-vu at her words.

It wasn’t rage she was feeling, or even the slightest bit of anger because she’d done this before, protected the three of them when nobody else would. She owed Matt and Carol a lot, more than she could ever say out loud, there was no way anyone was breeching the threshold of their house without getting a bullet between their eyes.

“I’ll wear your eyeballs around my neck!”

There had been more enemies than she had anticipated but Matt was a decent enough shot that between him and MacCready, they were able to cover the back of the house where most of them had gone and she concentrated on Bullet. He was the toughest of them all and was able to fight on his own, unfortunately for him, it was the same  for her. 

She laid on the floor, grabbed her combat knife and stabbed repeatedly into the wall until it made a hole big enough to fit the end of her rifle but still small enough that it was unnoticeable. She could just about see through the sight and aimed it between Bullet’s legs and took the shot. She could have taken the more tactical shot, aimed a little higher and ended it with one pull of the trigger but this particular man didn’t deserve a quick death, he deserved to feel pain. Bullet’s anguish filled the air and she peered around the doorframe to see him fall to his knees, his gun fell to the floor when both hands covered his crotch; his trousers were dampening with blood. She shot him in his exposed kneecaps as she waited for MacCready’s all clear. When it came she ran out the house slamming the door behind her, they didn’t need to see this, and ran over to the barely alive Bullet as he begun to drown in his own blood.

She crouched down next to him, he tried to protest but couldn’t.

“Your death will be a message to every other raider in this shit hole. This family is under protection,” she whispered in his ear before stabbing her knife through his forehead, his skull cracked as she pulled it back out. She used Bullet’s jacket to wipe as much blood off her hands as possible, before reentering the house.

_Why bother? Billy deserves to know what kind of person you really are._

A part of her, bigger than even she wanted to admit, wanted to cut the heads off all of them and stick them on poles just up the path, so the whole of the Commonwealth knew that death would quickly follow if they went anywhere near the house.

“It’s nice to know we can still count on you, even after two hundred years,” thanked Matt.

“No one will bother you again. I promise.”

Billy had come back downstairs and lunged himself at her. He buried his head in her stomach and wrapped his arms around her, she reciprocated by wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a cheek on his bald head.

“You’re gonna come back and visit, right?” His eyes weren’t not unlike that of Dogmeat when he wanted her to play with him.

“Maybe. But for now, you need to stay here. No more getting locked in fridges, okay?” She joked and kissed him on the forehead.

“Thanks, Alice!” Billy squeezed her one last time before running back into the arms of his parents, who smiled at the two of them gratefully. All three waved as she and MacCready walked out the door.

MacCready noticed the blood she’d tried to wipe off herself, sometimes the boss was so barbaric and he was pretty sure she could rip a deathclaw’s head off with her bare hands. He suspected she was hoping that by the time they got back to Sanctuary, he’d have forgotten about what just happened, but no way. She hired him, yes, but she had no choice, this had definitely raised more questions about her and it was time he got some answers.

“We’re gonna talk about this when we get back to Sanctuary,” stated MacCready.

* * * *

_Such as we are made of, such we be._

 

He’d overheard her mercenary lover boy call her ‘General’ and he’d received word that the Minutemen had recently come under new management. He never really much cared for the Minutemen, the idea sounded great but give small men big power and at some point, someone will pay for it.

And then there was Travis.

It definitely wasn’t just his imagination, Travis seemed…a little less Travis-like? As if he’d been a tape recorder stuck on slow this whole time and someone came along, gave the tape a once-over and then put him back in, fresh faced and completely different.

His new favourite vault dweller must have had something to do with that. Maybe that’s what the fake fight was about, to boost the kid’s confidence a bit. He could see her point, there was nothing quite like winning a fight to inflate the male ego but why on earth had she gone to so much trouble to help someone she barely knew? Jesus, if Valentine had been around he probably would have pulled her in for a hug, the detective was the only other person he knew that liked helping random people.

Not that he’d seen the old detective for quite some time, left for a mission weeks ago, and the people of Diamond City were starting  to panic. That was a first, the people of DC actually giving a crap about the whereabouts of a synth, but Valentine had helped the city out enough to earn a little respect. Though in his opinion, he still deserved a little more.

Some people, like him, belonged in the shadows, collecting and collating data from a distance, whereas others belonged in the spotlight, a voice to be heard and listened to, and he truly believed she fell into the latter category perfectly. So, with that in mind, he set out a plan, if he had anything to do with it this woman was about to be the worst kept secret in the Commonwealth.

The benefit of being in his particular job role meant that, over the years, he had formed many connections and had earned himself a lot of favours, that could be redeemed at a moment’s notice. And so that was what he did, left a note in every dead drop (that the Railroad didn’t know about) and called in almost every favour. He described what she looked like, the kid that would no doubt still be by her side, and left one simple instruction; _find out everything you can._

It was time to take a step back before he got caught, time to let everyone else talk about her shenanigans (what a great word). He left the city as soon as the fake fight was over, never one to stay longer than necessary, and he’d been on his best behaviour. Hadn’t followed her, hadn’t had anyone feeding him intel on her either, ultimately deciding that it was probably about time he did some work for the Railroad, you know, the organisation he actually belonged to. Besides, Dez would start to wonder why he was out doing so much reconnaissance work and having nothing to report when he got back.

Just as he predicted, the boss had a new job for him the second he walked back into HQ and he would have flat out refused if he’d had another assignment to fall back on and damn Dez for knowing that he had nothing else to do.

He wondered if Dez secretly knew, it was unlikely, if she was a seer she was the worst he’d ever seen, but what were the odds that she would turn up in the one place he was currently occupying? He’d avoided going anywhere near University Point for years now, too many bad memories of a life he pretended he hadn’t lived, but Dez needed him to go up there so there was no avoiding it. He was busy hiding when he saw her and that MacCready kid rid the place of synths. They'd pretty much done his job for him, the rest could wait, because when she pulled the kid out of the fridge he couldn’t help himself. Truth be told he hadn’t exactly tried to stop himself, he never seemed to be able to do that with this woman. He was royally screwed.

Everything she had shown him so far told him that she only killed when it was absolutely necessary but he’d been terrifyingly close when she was defending that family. She didn’t know it, but he’d seen what she had done to that raider, that bully. He heard her words and the gut wrenching crack of his skull under her blade. It was overkill. He was almost surprised she didn’t hang the corpse from a tree.

_God bless you, Piper, you overbearing persistent pain in the ass reporter._

He always gave it a once over when a new issue of Publick Occurrences came out, Piper was about as hellbent on finding the Institute as he was but she never had anything new…until this particular edition, _Interview with a Vault Dweller_. The reporter must have caught her at a good time, or bribed the crap out of her, in order to get an interview and Piper wasn’t wrong when she called it ‘the interview of the century’.

**_ So you came from a vault, what can you tell us about what happened down there? _ **

_ Well, I always wanted to be a part of the infamous 'Vault-Tec experiments' but I didn't imagine I'd be locked in a room with three-hundred guinea pigs. _

**_ Upon this answer I had to ask the all important question, what the hell is a guinea pig? _ **

_ Tiny little creatures that people kept as pets before the War. _

**_ Wait- Are you telling me you were alive before the War? _ **

_ Not exactly. I, my people, are what are referred to as 'time-travellers', I travel the universe in my small blue box, that's bigger on the inside, and I go to different points in time. I was on my way to the end of the universe when I got the distress call. _

**_ Distress call? _ **

_ No matter where I am in time and space I can hear people call for help. I'm here to help a family find their son. _

**_ A family looking for a loved one. We've been down this road before folks, we all know who is responsible for the disappearances of family members, friends. Take our vault dweller's story with a pinch of salt, disbelieve her all you want but one thing is clear, she is another person trying to find someone who is lost. _ **

**_ I ask you, how much longer can the people of Diamond City, and its Mayor, ignore what is really going on? And who will help put a stop to the Institute and its tyranny? _ **

He had to laugh when she’d said it was her and three hundred guinea pigs, it made the rest of the article pretty hard to believe but when he saw the way she protected that family like they were her own, maybe she hadn’t been lying completely. She was looking for someone. The Institute were well known for kidnapping people, if she was going to have any chance of finding the person she was looking for she needed the Railroad, though not as much as they needed her.

But there was a problem, if she really had been frozen for two hundred years then there was only one way the person she was looking for had been kidnapped. Whilst they were in the vault. The sighting of Kellogg, the bastard’s infiltration of Vault 111, the small bundle in his comrade’s arms. Maybe there was something to this whole destiny thing, like everything was prewritten and they were all just playing their parts until the scene changed. The likelihood of it being a coincidence, hell the likelihood of anything being a coincidence when it came to this woman was small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about five pages of notes and ideas melded into one chapter so I apologise if there's a lot of chopping and changing and I also apologies if it makes fuck all sense.
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	6. Counting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our dynamic duo come to the realisation that they may not have the straightforward partnership they originally thought they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots more brief smut in this because MacCready is too irresistible. 
> 
> Spoilers for MacCready's personal quest line.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Counting Stars - OneRepublic)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT_nvWreIhg)

_Suspicion always haunts a guilty mind_

 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, this wasn’t part of their deal. MacCready was a hired mercenary, paid to watch her back and keep her alive. Not ask questions about what he’d seen, argue with her decisions _constantly_ and she definitely wasn’t supposed to have sex with him.

She chalked it up to adrenaline and the fact it had been so long when it happened the first time. Neither of them mentioned it, they carried on as normal and it was like nothing had changed. It was wrong, so so wrong but that was the problem, she felt at her most right when doing the wrong thing - and sleeping with MacCready was definitely the wrong thing.

At first she didn’t care, sure she’d exposed her rare affectionate side - the side she saved for Billy - to a man she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could trust yet and she had been so happy to see Billy again that even the fact he and his entire family were ghouls was easy to deal with. The important thing was that they were safe. That was all that ever mattered.

But then he said it.

“We’re gonna talk about this when we get back to Sanctuary.”

It wasn’t a question, even a plea; it was a statement. 

“Okay.” 

If MacCready wanted to talk as soon as they got back to Sanctuary then fine, they would, she’d just take her time getting there.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he groaned.

Evidently feeling the urge to kill something, the boss had decided it would be a great idea to make their way through Quincy - and attempt to kill every gunner in there - knowing full well that was the last thing he wanted them to do. By some miracle they had gotten out of there alive and unscathed.

Now they were just travelling mindlessly up and down the Commonwealth, not actually doing anything constructive, and she was making sure she was at least two feet ahead of him at all times.

Lucy used to have moody moments like this, where she wouldn’t talk to him for days because she was too upset with him, and when he’d ask her what he’d done she’d always give him the same response ‘ _If you don’t know then I’m not going to tell you’_.

From the moment she said ‘Okay’ he knew it had been too easy and he should have known she’d do something like this.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

_Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it?_

“You’re scared,” he blurted out, too exhausted to mask his frustration. “I just saw a side of you that you obviously don’t like other people seeing and now I want to talk about it, you’re scared.”

She stood dead on her feet and swung around with determination. She stomped over to him and whilst a lump formed in his throat he would have found her more intimidating if she was taller.

“I am not scared,” she seethed through gritted teeth. If it wasn’t for the bandana wrapped back around her face, she would have sprayed salvia all over his face. “I hired you, remember RJ, I don’t have to tell you anything I don’t want to.”

She went to turn back around and walk off but MacCready was quick to put a hand on her shoulder and drag her back to look at him.

“I told you my whole name.”

“Yeah,” she used her shoulder to knock his hand off her, “only because I told you I came from a vault.”

She had him there.

"I told you about my childhood." This was getting ridiculous now.

"I showed you my face."  _I am dealing with a fucking child._

“Yeah, well…” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this argument. “I had sex with you!”

_Did I really just say that?_

A gasp of shock left her covered mouth and she pushed him.  _Juvenile little shit._

“I had sex with _you_!”

Simultaneously, images of that night flashed between them and before he knew it, her hands were all over him, he was ripping off her bandana, and his tongue was trying to reach the back of her throat from the front.

He slammed her against a tree and unapologetically tore her sunglasses off her face and threw them on the ground to join her bandana. In retaliation she grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket, pulled him into her and attacked his mouth as though it was her only source of oxygen. She peeled away moments later to let him take a breath but not before catching his lower lip between her teeth and pulling hard enough to make him groan and push his hips into her.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, her jumpsuit pooled around her feet - caught by her boots -him somehow in the middle of her thighs and her bare back was scratching against the tree as he thrust in and out of her.

“So who’s the kid?” he asked through gritted teeth, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“No one,” she replied defiantly. A small gasp of pain turned into a moan of pleasure when he hit inside her perfectly. Her words only frustrated him and he pounded into her not fast but hard.

“You’re a liar,” it was hard to keep his composure. The boss definitely annoyed the crap out of him, had almost got him killed on a number of occasions, but it was damn near impossible to ignore how good she felt wrapped around him.

She remained silent, in part because she refused to answer him but mostly because she was lost in the impending explosion coming from her core. She remained quiet too long for his liking, he took a handful of her hair and pulled, forcing her to look at him.

His eyes were wide with hunger, his face contorted into anger.

“Who’s the kid?” he thrusted even harder, picked up his speed and watched her face form the most glorious of expressions.

“I…I,” In an effort to find purchase she scraped her fingernails across the back of his neck and sunk them in deep enough to break the skin. “I knew him before I went in the vault.”

She was too close to the edge, desperate in need to go over, to care about what was coming out of her mouth. MacCready was probably - hopefully - so engrossed in finding his own orgasm that he was probably barely listening.

“You just - _ahh_ \- happen to know a kid that’s been locked in a fridge for two hundred years?”

He didn’t really give a shit about her response, yeah it was nice to finally hear her say something real for a change but maybe this hadn’t been the best time to bring it up; when he was balls deep inside her.

“ _Ahh_ yes!” 

MacCready placed on hand on her hip to steady her whilst the other travelled up to her shoulder to brace her before putting all his effort into slamming her hard against the tree and rucking up into her with brutal force.

“I’m a time-travel- _aah_ , remember? What’s been two hundred years for him ha-has only been a few days for me.”

He had to admire, and hate her for it. To be able to keep up the rouse even now, when he was trying to destroy her from the inside out.

He slowed down in his movements, not coming to a complete stop, and looked at her.

“So,” he cupped his hands over her ass and pulled her upwards, so she was wrapped more securely around him before bracing an arm on either side of her head and leaning in to talk into her neck. “That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself.”

“There’s, there’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Fine,” he breathed in defeat, she sighed at the warm air that hit her neck, which turned into an aroused moan when she felt his teeth latch on to her pulse point and suck on her skin.

Any amount of strength he had left went into pounding the hell out of her tight cunt. He was young but not exactly inexperienced - hormones ran rampant in Little Lamplight - but he’d never fucked a pussy quite like  hers and he knew from the first moment he entered her that all other women were ruined for him.

She scratched at his coat, desperate to claw at the skin underneath, her whole body tensed and his name left her mouth in a scream when she came. He hadn’t seen it before, his head had been buried between her legs or _her_ head had been buried in the mattress, but it was certainly a sight to behold. Her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she had an expression that was somewhere between pain and euphoria.

_Outstanding._

She rolled her shoulders back into her jumpsuit, she refused to look at the young mercenary inches away from her because, yes, they really had just done that. _Again._ She pulled the zip up to her chin, hoping that was the end of it.

“We’re not done,” he stated as his zipped up his trousers and she wondered exactly what part he talking about.

Sanctuary had changed a lot since they'd last been there. All the debris that had scattered the road had disappeared, three of the old homes had been stripped down and cleared. The first two houses after the bridge had new roofs and wooden panels that covered any holes that had existed. As they made their way into Sanctuary, Dogmeat came running up on her, circled her legs twice before standing on his back legs and resting his paws on her thighs. He looked at her with big eyes that told her he was happy she had returned. Her smile to him was met with an affectionate lick to her hand before Dogmeat turned his attention to MacCready. Dogmeat lunged at him with such force that MacCready fell on to the ground, laughing and squirming as Dogmeat licked him frantically.

“I think someone’s happy to see you,” she commented as she helped MacCready off the ground.

“I think someone’s happy I brought you home safe,” he corrected, dusting himself off.

As they travelled up to the centre house, she noticed three half-made generators on the ground.

“General,” greeted Preston with a salute she hated. “We’ve managed to make two of the houses habitable already. Sturges just needs to finish one generator and then we can get some power cables up and running. Luckily, you picked up so much stuff, we’ve barely had to leave to get anything.”

He knew she had a smug look on her face, even if he couldn't see it through her bandana.

“Remember this moment,” she said turning to look at him, “when you bitch about all that ‘worthless crap’.”

He knew it; smug.

She knelt on the ground to get even more junk out of her pack.

“It’s the least I can do for what you’re doing,” she responded when she looked at Preston’s surprised face. “Listen, I know you need my help but right now I need to sleep, we’ve had a pretty crazy couple of days.” That was putting it lightly.

Preston nodded and walked away.

“That was easier than I expected,” MacCready readjusted the pack on his shoulder and followed her to the carport of her old house.

He looked at her questionably when she started to roll out a sleeping bag on the hard concrete, she ignored his silent questioning and continued to rummage through her pack.

It was the one house that needed little to no work and yet no one had claimed it. She suspected that Codsworth had warned everyone to stay away from her marital home because no one went within five feet of the place and whilst she wanted to never step foot inside, to be reminded of her failure, the carport would do just fine, at least until Sturges had finished the plans she had given him when they last left. A house to call her own, away from everyone else. Besides, she was used to sleeping outside.

“Gotta say, Preston and his Minutemen have done a pretty good job in such a short time.” MacCready commented as he put down his pack and collapsed onto the ground, his back braced against the side of the house.

She grabbed two purified waters out of her pack, holding one out as she shuffled away from him. She took a sip of the lukewarm water and found herself wishing she’d gone over to the drinking machine they’d found in The Shamrock Taphouse, Buddy was destined for the Rexford in Goodneighbor but MacCready had begged her to send it here, he literally got down on his knees and begged.

MacCready wasn’t all that bad, she knew that deep down, he hadn’t mentioned once about the kid Mama Murphy had referred to as her son and he stayed completely straight-faced throughout her interview with Piper, something that was no small feat itself because her story had become more ludicrous as she went on. 

“So,” he took a sip of water, “three hundred guinea pigs, what was that like?”

“It was okay, they didn’t bite that much and I got used to the smell after a while.”

She channelled her experience of the animals back at base, the ones they ran experiments on, and it certainly had taken her a while to get used to the smell because it was a smell like no other, especially when they were hundreds of animals stuffed in one room. She was lucky she didn't have a gag reflex anymore.

“What makes someone want to go live in a place like that?”

He was asking questions, toeing the line, just to see how much information he could get out of her before she started lying. Not, in his opinion, that she'd ever stopped in the first place. As ridiculous as this woman was, there was no way in hell she was actually a time traveller, she knew a kid, a whole family, that had spent the last two hundred years living as ghouls, even he wasn’t such a dumbass that he couldn’t put two and two together.

“Because, sometimes, anything is better than the life people are forced to live.”

She knew what he was doing, pushing his boundaries just to see how far he could go before she pushed back but, like always, she chose her words carefully. He knew she came from a vault, he’d seen her face, that was enough for now as far as she was concerned.

Like trying to get blood out of stone, like trying not to curse out loud - this woman was more trouble than she was worth. An imaginary lightbulb appeared over his head when the realisation hit him, she told him she came from a vault, he told her his name…he told her about his childhood, she showed him his face…As the kid of Little Lamplight used to say, _aint nothing that comes for free._

“Thanks.” He didn’t need to see her face to know she was completely confused.

“For what?”

“Whilst I can’t say it’s been the easiest arrangement I ever made, we’ve made a pretty good team. It’s nice to be on the open road. Goodneighbor is a good place to set up shop. Diamond City’s goons would have run me out of town and wandering the Commonwealth alone isn’t the brightest plan when you’re hard up for caps.”

He went from trying to pry information out of her to suddenly thanking her for hiring him…and she knew he wasn’t that grateful because he was still bitching about her haggling him down to a hundred caps. Never one to be slow on the uptake, she knew what he was doing immediately.

_Nice play._

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, what’s the deal? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to get them for you, but why do you need them so badly?”

They both knew she wouldn’t make it easy for him. He didn’t usually go around sharing stories about his life and although she’d hardly been straight with him, he probably could use her help in dealing with the problem.

“It’s those two ass…those two idiots you saw me talking to at the Third Rail, Winlock and Barnes. They’ve been hounding me for months and it’s been driving off clients. No one wants to touch me once they learn I used to run with the gunners. I figured if I could get enough caps together, maybe I could buy them out.”

“I wouldn’t trust them not to try to kill you, even if you did pay them off,” she knew people like Winlock and Barnes, they knew the rules but they still had no honour.

“My thoughts exactly. Winlock and Barnes have a small army of gunners with them at all times.”

“Maybe we could get to them first? Hit them where they live, catch them off guard?” she stole the words from his mouth.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t trust you…”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,” neither would he really. “But you almost got yourself killed playing distraction to a group of synths for me so I figure I owe you this. If you need my help; I’m there.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll make it easier on you, if you feel like helping me with this, head over to the Mass Pike interchange and we’ll take them down. If you don’t, I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“RJ, what are you talking about? I already said I’d help you and of course I care about what happens to you. Who else is going to put up with all my sneaking around? This is important to you so but we’ll go in the morning, we need sleep first.”

She didn’t need sleep, she could go for days at a time without closing her eyes but she did need to think of a plan. The second he mentioned Winlock and Barnes she thought that was it, that was the moment he was waiting for - to get her right where they wanted her so they could kill her - and she was going to make damn sure she didn’t make it easy for them.

Fire and Fury were in their rightful places, Relentless was on her back, she didn’t appear to look any different to normal, but appearances can be deceiving. Inside her left boot was a combat knife, serrated knuckles hidden under her right glove, a switchblade tucked inside her bra and a fragmentation grenade lodged in a place it had no business being in. She was ready for whatever hell MacCready was dragging her into.

After all, how well did they really know each other?

The whole time she thought he was playing the part, even when they were travelling up the makeshift lift, right up to the moment they were stood in front of Barnes. Then there was a gunshot, one that did not come from her, Barnes’ lifeless body fell to the ground and she turned to see the barrel of MacCready’s gun smoking.

He’d done it. They really were there to kill them, he wasn’t about to stab her in the back and leave her to die. She let him shoot Winlock too, just to make sure (and to let him have that sliver of satisfaction) and she was too high on yet another adrenaline rush to care when MacCready pulled her into a hug and whispered a breathless ‘thank you’ in her ear.

Adrenaline, the fact he wasn’t going to kill her, the fact that he was attractive - she could pick any number of things as the reason - whichever one she chose didn’t change the outcome. She pushed his body off hers and let him fall to the ground, he looked up at her in confused shock and bit his lip as he watched her hover over his body and position her crotch over his.

If she was rewarding him for a job well done…well, he could think of worse ways to be praised. His knees were filthy, hurting as the rubble of the broken down highway scratched his kneecaps but nothing on or around him was quite as filthy as the way he was fucking her, thrusting so deep and fast that the flesh of her ass rippled every time his hips snapped against her. He pulled her hair again, knowing how much she liked it, and as quick as it had started, she was coming all over him and he pulled out just in time before exploding all over her backside.

When their breathing had returned to normal they redressed themselves and carried on, as if nothing had happened because, evidently, that was their ‘thing’. Her bandana was back around her face when she turned back to look at him and in her very boss-like way, told him that, now they were finished ‘dicking around with his shit’, they were going to a settlement she promised Preston she’d check in on.

They didn’t speak the whole way there, didn’t so much as look as each other when they found themselves having to defend the settlement against a brigade of raiders - not until the last body hit the ground and she’d run around the place to make sure everyone was still accounted for. She could pretend all she wanted that she didn’t want the title of ‘General’, that she hated the fact so many people needed her help but she liked doing it, liked making sure people were safe, that much he’d figured out.

“MacCready!” she yelled it so loudly that he rushed to her, thinking something was wrong but when he caught up with her, he noticed the large blanket on the ground and two _ice cold beers_ she’d obviously had the foresight to pick up.

“Come watch the stars with me,” her voice was soft, inviting, and didn’t sound like her one bit.

He obliged and sat down a few feet away from her. She scooted over to sit closer to him and held out a beer for him to take.

“You sure like being outside, don’t you?”

No matter where they were, no matter how close to a semi-secure building, she _always_ chose to stay outside. 

“Two hundred years and they’re all still here,” she said dreamily, her eyes fixated on the sky blanketed with stars. “It’s the only thing that hasn’t changed.” 

A moment of calm, a chance to relax, MacCready had never been so grateful to get off his feet. He watched her as she stared up at the sky and then look down at the beer in her hand before taking a swig; _dutch courage._

This was how their partnership worked, one at a time they took the opportunity to tell the other something real about themselves, he’d asked for her help in putting an end to Winlock and Barnes and she had doubted his motives right up until the last second. She wouldn’t say she owed it to him, but it might just make up for her doubting him. He was probably used to people doing that, she certainly was; she should have known better.

“RJ, you asked me a question yesterday,”

He had to think for a moment what she was talking about, but the second he pictured himself fucking her up against that tree he wondered how he’d even forgotten.

“And I think I’m ready to give you an answer.”

He put down his beer, used one hand to release her bottle from her grip and took a gentle hold of her closest hand.

“I’m not a time-traveller, it wasn’t me and three hundred guinea pigs,” she took a deep breath and tried to bury the anger she felt building inside her, her grip tightened around  MacCready’s hand, to the point where her knuckles turned white and he was wincing with pain. “I had no idea what Vault-Tec had planned, I didn’t even want to go into the vault in the first place. I just had to get away from the life I’d been forced to live.”

She edged even closer to him and made sure no one was around before peeling the sunglasses off her face. He’d seen them a few times before but that never stopped him from getting a lump in throat (and his pants) but this was the first time she ’d done it in the dark and he's pretty sure, adamant in fact, that her eyes were _literally_ glowing.

“Mama Murphy’s wrong, I’m not looking for my son...but I am looking for the kid that I went into the vault with. I was forced to marry somebody I didn’t love and if he hadn’t grabbed the boy first, I would have just killed him before we got to the entrance. I know you overheard me say his name to Codsworth…Nathaniel was killed whilst we were inside the vault; just not by me. I didn’t lie to you, I met Billy and his family four years before I went inside.”

“You look good for someone who’s over two hundred years old.” It the only thing he could think to say, besides, _what_ could he say to something like that? It was too ridiculous for words…this woman was over two-hundred years...prewar. What are the odds of something like that happening?

She breathed a laugh before continuing.

“When Billy asked who you were I panicked, I didn’t even know how to answer a question like that. But then I gave it some thought, I was worried about you when you said you’d cause a distraction, you bitch about almost _everything_ I ‘drag’ you into and you’re constantly questioning me…for the most part you’re a huge pain in the ass but I’m pretty sure I meant what I said to Billy, you are my friend,” she released her hand from his grip and played with the glass bottle on the ground between her legs. “You’re probably my best friend.”

It didn’t sound like much, he probably didn’t see it as that big of a deal but there had been no one in her life that she even came close to describing like that.

“And I’m sorry.” He looked at her, eyebrow raised. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, right up to the moment you shot both Winlock and Barnes, I still thought you were pulling me into a trap and I’m just sorry I doubted you.”

“I’m used to it,” he replied casually with a shrug of his shoulder. He put a reassuring hand on her arm and she looked up at him with a smile, a smile that seared itself right onto his heart. “Plus, you stuck your neck out for me, I don’t forget shi-…I mean things like that.”

As someone who swore a lot, more than deemed necessary, she noticed it straight away, MacCready rarely cursed and he was always quick to correct, and silently berate, himself when he did.

“Okay, seriously, RJ, what’s the deal with trying not to curse?” The curiosity was killing her and, if they had taken the leap in their partnership that she was sure they’d just taken, he’d tell her.

“Yeah, I figured you’d ask me about this sooner or later. It’s not about you,” he had insisted, “it’s about a promise I made. When I left the Capital Wasteland, I didn’t just leave Little Lamplight behind…I left my family behind.” He knew she had overheard Vadim say her name but bless her for not mentioning it. “Had a beautiful wife named Lucy…and a son we named Duncan,” his heart fell heavily in his chest at the name. “He’s the one that I made my promise to…A promise to clean up my act and to be a better person,” he sighed. “I guess that sounds pretty stupid coming from a guy who shoots for a living.” 

“You think you sound stupid? It doesn’t make you sound like that at all. You sound like a father trying to do what he thinks is right by his son.”

_He has a son_. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, MacCready - a man who was only a few years younger than her - had a son, a whole family in fact but if he was here, where were they? Then his words came back at her, like the screen on a terminal. _Had_. Had a beautiful wife named Lucy. MacCready was a single father…So where the hell was his son?

“You must have had a good reason.” And there it was, she was unlocking the door to his final confession, all he had to do was open it. Plus, she’d helped him out once before…was he hoping for too much this time around?

_Here goes nothing_.

“My son…he’s sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. One day, he’s playing out in the fields behind our farm…the next he took a fever and these blue boils popped up all over his body,” he had shuddered as he recalled the image. “Last I saw he was almost too weak to walk. I didn’t dare ask him to come with me. Honestly, I don’t know how much longer he’s going to last.” His vulnerability was spread out for her to see and his head and heart sunk when he felt her move away from him and get to her feet.

“Why are you only just telling me about this?” she spoke to the air before turning around to kick him in the shin.

_At least it’s not an elbow to the ribs,_ he thought as he rubbed his knee.

“Fuck sake, RJ, we’ve been roaming around the Commonwealth doing meaningless crap compared to finding a cure for your _son_!” She outstretched a hand for him to take. “We need to go get it. Like right now!” she added, gesturing her hand out again for extra emphasis.

He had told her where to go and the boss practically ran the entire way, outmanoeuvring almost everything that tried to attack her. Damn, she was fucking crazy when she was determined about something.

It was off track from her own mission, she knew that, she knew they should be in Diamond City right now, but she’d already failed in reuniting one family with their son, she had to at least try to help MacCready reunite with his.

“I just hope it’s in there.” he had commented, it was easier to see the glass as half empty (he had no idea what that meant but she had explained the concept well enough).

“Sometimes, all people have is hope.” Her words willed him on. This optimistic side of her was new, she had a lot of different sides to her - sometimes it was hard to keep track.

Of all the things they could have found in the lab, of all the enemies, why did it have to be ferals? Ferals reminded him of Lucy…thinking of Lucy distracted him and being distracted made him feel guilty that she had been doing most of the work. He couldn’t help it, if they could make their way down, if the passcode worked, if the cure was there…if the cure worked! Sje had been right when she told him to hold on to hope, his stomach fluttered something unfamiliar and the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up at the thought of seeing Duncan again. It would be a long while yet but still, if he could get the cure for his son and Duncan got better then he was one step closer to proving he was the father his son deserved.

Having his way with her in a dirty motel was one thing, fucking up against a tree because they were both pissed at each other and then rucking on the dirty highway like a couple of feral mongrels were others but watching her get on her knees, dozens of feral corpses around them, and sucking him dry against the counter was something else entirely, and he was not too proud to admit it was the sexiest thing he’d ever experienced in his life.

“We’re two sides of the same coin.”

The words left her mouth in a breath and he found himself backing up against the counter as she stepped closer to him.

“If it wasn’t for you,” she whispered into his ear as her hands fumbled with the belt around his waist. He held his breath and gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckled whitened. “If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have made it this far,” he felt and heard the buckle come undone and the slight whoosh sound it made as she pulled one side and it came out of the loops of his trousers. “And not just because you helped me with the map.”

The breath he was holding left him in one hard exhale as her hand found its way inside his boxers and took hold of his aching erection. A growl escaped him when she pumped him a few times and his head fell back and his closed his eyes when he felt her tongue run along his tip.

He looked down to see her staring at him, getting off on his reaction to the movements she made. He felt the end of his dick hit the back of her throat and gasped when her tongue ran along the edge as she pulled away.

“Fuck, boss,” the words had left him involuntarily. He heard her chuckle, her mouth vibrating over him, bring a whole new sensation. “If you’re not careful, this’ll be over before you know it.” 

He honestly thought it would slow her down but she was stubborn and she hastened in wrapping her lips around him and thrusting him in and out of her mouth, small gurgles left her mouth but if she didn’t care, neither did he. He couldn’t help but feel as though she was rewarding him, and not for the first time. Like it even mattered, the way her mouth had been going up and down on his dick was too enjoyable to question and when he warned her he was close he expected her to move away, instead she latched on to him, fingers digging into his thighs, he could feel her throat convulse as he came in her mouth but she swallowed happily.

He looked down and saw her still staring up at him, he bit his lip as he watched her wipe the edges of her mouth with the back of her hand and he scanned over every inch of her as she got gracefully to her feet.

Yep. He was definitely ruined for other women.

* * * *

_Better three hours too soon than a minute too late._

 

Because in this particular case he would have missed it, and he wasn't entirely sure he’d believe it if he just heard it through the grapevine. 

He’d been a good agent and gone back to tell Dez his mission at University Point was a success (happily skipping the bits in between) and she was quick to assign him back to Diamond City, telling him there was new intel and there definitely was a synth living there. He had to go back and 'try harder'.

He wasn’t going to rush back, even Dez had to know that, a little stop over in Goodneighbor to get back in tune with his drifter side was just what he needed. Two hours inside the wall of the town and he came to the realisation that coincidence was bullshit. So much so they should strike the word from the dictionary, if people were actually in the business of publishing those still. 

Goodneighbor may not be the place to ask questions but it didn’t mean none were raised. Like, for instance, why did he keep getting in situations that put him anywhere near that woman? And why did her and that MacCready look so close now?

So close in fact that he was pretty sure they were holding hands.

_Wait - are you jealous?_

_You realise you don’t actually know her right, and she probably doesn’t know you exist._

This wasn’t right. No, no, this was not part of his plan. She should not be wasting her time gallivanting around the Commonwealth with a mercenary….who still hadn’t killed her. 

_Yet. He hasn’t killed her yet._ He was getting desperate, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Luckily, being the world class spy that he was, he had prepared for such an event. 

Casually, carefully, he walked past her, close enough for her to bump into him when she wasn’t paying attention. _Perfect_. He flinched back and let the holotape fall out of the pathetic grasp he had on it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she put a hand on his arm, he froze in place and for a split second, forgot who he was.

He cleared his throat and recomposed himself. 

“Hey, no worries, sister,” he waited for her to be a safe distance away before putting a hand on his head and expelling a breath.

His heart was pumping hard in his chest, he could feel his blood pulse in his ears. So close to danger, so close to getting caught…yep, there wasn’t a chem in the whole world that could match that feeling.

Part one of his ridiculous plan (that may or not work)? Check.

Part two? Well, that was the problem, there was no part two. Not until she picked up the holotape and walked the Freedom Trail. Now all he had to do was wait and he could wait as long as necessary, decades in espionage had taught him to be patient.

Like a invisible cock-block, Dez’ voice popped into his head. _Watch out kids, mom’s here to break up the party_

_Maybe you could waste time by, oh I don’t know, doing your job?_

Perhaps it was time he went and found that synth now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you there, thanks for being here xx


	7. Casual Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nice fluff between MacCready and my SS. And any chance to write from Deacon's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Casual Sex - My Darkest Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwOchsxVuY0))

  _Pleasure and action make the hours seem short._

 

It had to have been the craziest, busiest, couple of months of his entire life but he wasn’t complaining - quite the opposite in fact - because the boss had done something for him that no one else had. There were no words, or at least none he could find that would fully portray how grateful he was to have met her, and after all she’d done to help him, he’d all but forgotten that she’d haggled him down to a measly hundred. It had definitely been worth it, hell he would have done it for free if he had known just how much she’d do for him. She was helping him become the man he was so desperate to prove to Duncan he could be and she acted like it was nothing. Nothing! Not only had she helped him get the Gunners off his back, at least for now, but because she continuously asked for more caps he was able to send some of them back home. This woman was _fucking_ amazing.

Words didn’t need to be exchanged on the matter, there was an unwritten mutual understanding. He woke up the morning after pretty sure he was out of a job - fucking the person in charge was probably a sackable offence no matter what line of work you were in - but she didn’t mention it and he was happy to play along. Then there was that moment after Quincy…Then after they killed Winlock and Barnes...and then there was what happened after they found the cure for Duncan. It was obvious that they weren’t going to be able to keep their hands off each other and being alone in the Commonwealth was less than ideal, so, for the time being, it was what it was. Besides, after everything she had done for him, without hesitation, without a second thought, the least the woman deserved was an orgasm on a nightly basis and he was happy to be the one to give her that. Plus, the way she screamed his name when she came was just too pleasurable to never hear again. 

Sanctuary was too far away, she knew they wouldn’t get there in time, because right at the moment the only thing she wanted to do was find the nearest motel and ride the hell out of him until she had no energy to expel. A lot had happened over the past twenty fours hours and a lot of it had been spent with MacCready buried inside her, and the loss of it was only made her crave it more. MacCready wasn’t thrilled to be back in Goodneighbor but the second she leant forward to bite his earlobe and tell him everything she wanted to do to him, he was all too happy to endure.

Not two hours ago she was spread over the dresser, covered in the dust that fell off the wall as the dresser knocked into it (with such force that a sleeping patron in the room next to them banged on the wall and told them to ‘fuck quieter’). They laughed but didn’t stop and he was almost too slow in his movements to cover her mouth when she came but she had saved him by biting her own lip and grunting as orgasm washed over her.

Now their heads and hearts had levelled out, clothes were where they supposed to be and they weren’t sweating as if they’d just fucked like wild animals. They were sat crossed legged on the bed, her Pip-Boy tuned to Diamond City Radio.

“I still can’t believe it’s the same guy,” MacCready commented. “I especially like the way he thanks the Vault Dweller every three songs,” a childish grin on his face.

She made a mental note to bitchslap Piper when they eventually got back to Diamond City, she should have known better than to trust a reporter because, all of a sudden, Travis knew everything she was doing, and was just telling the whole Commonwealth about it, as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

“At least the music’s better.” The last time she saw Travis, when she was making sure he was still mentally stable enough to host the radio station, she played him her recording of Magnolia. “Do you think he paid for her to come to him? Or do you think he _actually_ travelled to Goodneighbour?” A laugh left her uncontrollably at the idea of Travis in Goodneighbour.

“If they did meet, can you imagine the look on Travis’ face when Magnolia hit on him? Because you know she would have.” They laughed together. 

MacCready couldn’t help but look at her as she laughed, the tiny wrinkles that formed around her eyes as her cheeks scrunched up when her pouted lips widened into the most incredible smile, showing a row of the sparkling whiteness that was her teeth. No one had teeth like that anymore. 

He took a large swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand, for dutch courage.

“What’s your deal?” he asked blankly. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion but a small smirk of surprise on her lips. She knew exactly what he was implying but he knew she would drag it out, her own walls of defence. He only wanted to expose a few bricks, and after the way he’d just fucked her…it wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“I don’t know what you mean, RJ,” if she wasn’t so full of crap he would have believed her. He raised a suspicious eyebrow at her. After a few seconds he sighed in defeat. He knew the deal, he had to be real specific about what he wanted to know, and he would have to try and figure out whether she was bullshitting him or not.

“Well, putting aside for one second that s _omehow_ you’re over two hundred years old.” He bet she thought he forgot about that. “The way you shoot a gun…your knowledge of Boston…your military-like speech…,” there was no stopping him now “the fact you keep your face covered ninety-nine percent of the time…the way you’ve charmed _everyone_ we’ve come across in the Commonwealth…you look nothing like any other woman, I mean your skin, your eyes. Even your teeth! I have never met anyone like you and, I’m sorry, but when did you learn to suck dick like that?” 

She giggled but her eyes said _run_.

Just like a bandaid, quick and painless.  _Yeah, painless my ass._

“I was cryogenically frozen, there was a malfunction and I was the only one who survived. The white curls in my hair? They’re because of the pod I was in, it’s a part of who I am - that’s why they keep multiplying, it’s nothing to do with my age. I’m only twenty five." 

She had a point, he’d noticed the whiteness of her hair the moment he first saw it but every day more appeared. She’d got so sick of it being different lengths that she eventually gave in and cut it all the same length, with a blunt knife no less, she was going to have to glue her hat to her head. Or she’d ask Codsworth to make her a wig when they got back to Sanctuary. 

He eyed her suspiciously, there was more, he could tell. She fell silent, looking intently at him. 

“RJ, you would like to know more about me.” He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. “Okay,” she readjusted herself, still sat with her legs crossed, her fingers twirling each other pointlessly.

He had made her uncomfortable and he wondered for a moment whether she would continue. He put a hand encouragingly over hers and she cleared her throat as she wrapped her fingers around his.

“I barely remember it, it's like watching clips from an old film where the plot doesn’t make any sense.” Her life in a nutshell. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what she could. “I was young…I can’t say how old I was. I’m playing in what I think is my school, a lady had been watching on the other side of the fence for days before finally she walked up to me. Then we’re playing this weird little game, to this day I still don’t know why. Over and over again, she flips a coin in the air and asks me to guess which side it lands on. I got it right,” she shrugged her shoulder, “every time. After that it’s just military bases and hard training.” 

Her face was a mixture of concentration and utmost fear as she spoke, her head fell forward and her eyes stayed tightly shut as she tried to remember. When she looked up at him he felt his heart fall in his chest. That face, the face that could stop a whole fleet of Brotherhood soldiers in their tracks. The sadness was unbearable.

_ No wonder she covers her _ _face._ A face like that could make a man do terrible things.

He felt guilty, putting her through it but he knew she was going to keep talking. The words were just running out of her, she needed to tell it as much as he wanted to hear it.

“They… _kidnapped_ you?” he had asked when she paused. 

“They kidnapped me…I followed willingly…I have no idea. I’ve pretty much assumed they blocked it from my memory. There was a bunch of us, all around the same age. We fought our way through mud with barbed wire, learnt how to hide in plain sight. They would teach us how to disarm a bomb by making us practice on live ones,” her voice lowered with sadness. “A lot of us didn’t make it. Those of us who did went on to the next stage. Females and males were split up. We were all taught how to kill but the men were taught to use brute force - being injected with who knows what to make them stronger but the women…we were taught to seduce. Read faces, body language, every movement and every expression no matter how long it lasted. I can see so much in people’s faces…I know what people are going to say before they open their mouths.” He hid his pain when her sadness turned to anguish. “I was taught to lie, to find the weakness in people and exploit it.” She brought her hands up to her face and buried herself in them. “I was given missions and I blindly accepted them because that’s what I was taught to do.”

And to think, he only _thought_ she was crazy, the fact that she wasn’t clawing at the walls and sitting with the drunks in the Third Rail was admirable enough. It helped confirm what he already knew; _she’s one tough cookie._

“What kinda missions did you do?” he asked cautiously. He reached up, pulled her hands away from her face and gripped them in his.

“Different kinds, security detail to some important people - no one suspects the beautiful girl to be carrying a knife. Undercover jobs, one or two assassinations,” she tightly closed her eyes again. “I’ve always liked to think I was doing the right thing, but was I…I mean really, or was I just doing what everyone wanted me to?”

“So if you were told to use your looks, why do you always cover your face?” his thumbs stroked the back of her hands in a comforting gesture.

“I told you before, I don’t want people to know what I look like. You knew there was something different about me as soon as you saw it, didn’t you?” he nodded. “Exactly. Having a face like _no one else_ …no thanks. Being called the Vault Dweller is just fine. I wish they wouldn’t go announcing my exploits on the radio but still, as long as no one knows what I look like and I took the vault suit off as soon as I could.”

Back at Nordhagen, when they had successfully saved everyone's asses, she turned the radio on in the hope that a little music would calm everyone down. And it worked, everyone did calm down. Except her. She looked as though her brain was about to explode out the back of her head. _Let me tell you a story about a boy named Billy._  He thought she was going to run back to Diamond City and shoot Travis in the head. She didn’t so much as scream or throw a tantrum but for the entire journey she avoided sneaking past _anything_ and would take the shot before most of them saw her coming. Eventually though, she seemed to sink back into their old ways and MacCready guessed that, in her own weird way, she had worked through it. But, hey, what was a little monster killing good for if not a way to blow off steam? And the way she threw him around when they stepped inside the hotel room, the marks her fingernails left on his back would be visible for days and he was happy to wear them with pride.

“But you let me see your face…” his voice trailed because he immediately regretted the words, like he had broken the unspoken rule between them. She looked at him with a sympathetic smile, eyes to match, as if he’d just asked a question to which the answer was obvious.

“You’re the only person in the Commonwealth I’ve connected to. Sure, I speak to Preston but only ever about Minutemen business.” She had definitely come around to the idea of being General and she’d even stopped glaring every time MacCready brought it up. “There’s Codsworth…but it’s not the same. Growing up the way I did, we were never friends, we were comrades - brothers and sisters in arms. I came to Goodneighbor at my lowest point and when some drifter in the Third Rail mentioned you, I thought it was perfect. I needed someone at my back…what can I say? I’ve gotten used to having you there.” Her hand separated from his and came to rest of his cheek. “I’ve never met anyone in my life that I could trust, until I met you. You really are my best friend, RJ.”

“You know, I think I kinda love you,” he smiled.

She didn’t know emotions, barely understood them. There was never a place for them in her old life but her old life was just that, an _old life._ Her new life, on the other hand, had plenty of room for emotions and although she still couldn’t understand them (or control them) she was happy to finally feel _something_ after being empty for so long.

“The closest I’ve ever come to loving someone was during the time I spent with the Peabody’s. I didn’t realise how much I loved them until I had to leave and it broke my heart. It was the first, and only, time I felt like I was part of a real family. I think about what it would be like if I ever lost you and it feels, not the same but similar. So yeah, I think I kind of love you too.”

She reciprocated his smile and he let them enjoy the moment in comfortable silence before continuing.

“You’re still leaving out the most important part,” he informed her with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“You just learn as you go on! The more you practise, the better you get,” she scoffed at him but he knew it was in jest. He smiled at his own crudeness before taking another sip of whiskey. 

“So, if he gets better, do you think you’ll go back to the Capital Wasteland?” 

He choked on the warm liquid that got caught in his throat when she spoke. That was one way to steer the conversation.

“I’m not sure.” 

It was the truth, he’d thought about it, of course he had but Duncan was the only thing left for him back home and the Capital Wasteland held too many memories from his past, his brief time in Little Lamplight, Lucy… _Lucy._ MacCready had more of a chance at making a decent living if he just made arrangements for Duncan to come to the Commonwealth but there was no point thinking anything until he heard back from the caravan that Daisy had contacted, even if he successfully delivered the serum to Duncan it could take days, weeks even, before they saw any kind of improvement - and that’s only if it worked.

“He could always come here.” It wasn’t the first time he wondered if she could read his mind but she was still looking at the ground, he’d never seen her look so vulnerable. “Codsworth would be amazing with him and Sturges and Preston would protect him. Who knows, I could name him as my predecessor…” _if something were to happen to me._

Her silent words hung in the air. The way they lived their lives, something was always likely to happen to both of them, but so far they’d been lucky. Honestly, luck had nothing to do with it, they made a damn good team.

“It sounds good,” he released his grip, unfolded his stiff legs before wrapping his arm around her neck and guided her to the bed. She laid with one leg bent in the air, her head rested on his chest. Her breath felt warm through the fabric of his t-shirt. “But I’m not entirely sure if I want my son to be a Minuteman…”

She gave him a playful slap on the stomach, “You should feel honoured that the General wants him to be a part of it. I hear she’s pretty damn special.”

“Apparently so,” he teased. “Still, I dunno…being raised by a Mr. Handy and spending all his time with a chem-obsessed fragile lady…sure why not?” His fingers trembled through her hair, still shocked at how soft it was.

Tomorrow they would wake up, go to Daisy’s shop, when it was actually open, and then wait. All they had to do was wait. And whilst they were doing that they should go back to Diamond City, slap Piper, and go speak to Valentine. If Valentine was really the great detective everyone thought he was then he was the only person who could help her.

She fell asleep thinking of his name, trying to find the piece of her brain that found familiarity in it, and how lucky she was to have MacCready with her. They really were the best thing to happen to each other since either of them had stepped into the Commonwealth.

* * * *

_Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice_

 

He always preferred to listen and watch from the sidelines, rather than be the person in the middle vying for everyone’s attention. Attention was the last thing he needed, although when he was in Diamond City, no one’s eyes were ever on him because he was exactly what he looked like, just your every day run of the mill City guard, and the only reason it wasn’t his favourite disguise was because it had too many layers and took too many minutes to piece together. Precious minutes that could have been spent on finding a synth.

In his defence, he did find one. Just not the one Dez was looking for, but certainly one everyone else was looking for.

He couldn’t believe it, he even wanted to be holding a bottle of water at the time just so he could drop it from shock.

Nick bloody Valentine.

The old synth detective rolls back into the City as if he hadn’t been missing for months and he hazards a guess at who’s responsible for saving Valentine before the synth’s announcement reaches his ears. Of course it was her, who else would it have been?Sure, a few people seemed concerned by his absence, but not enough to actually try to do anything about it. They were just waiting for someone else to find him, or waiting for him to come back on his own so they could ask for his help.

Christ, he thought as he watched people gather around and bombard the synth with desperate pleas, Nick was probably grateful for the vacation away from these people.

Leave it to the Commonwealth’s recent newcomer to find the son of a bitch. Was there anywhere he could go where he wouldn’t hear about her? Probably not and he only had himself to blame, he told the people what he wanted - to know _everything_ she did - and now he was paying for it. 

He waited for the crowd to disperse and Valentine to be a safe distance away from his office before running to catch up with him.

“Yo, Nick!” he gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. Valentine turned around in utter confusion before rolling his eyes at the face underneath the helmet.

“Haven't you got anything better to do than run around dress like that?”

“You know me,” he rubbed the back of neck. “Not to jump on the bandwagon, but I could really use your help.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's part is so small and pointless I know but I can't stop myself from writing in his POV. I mean, oh my freaking god, he is sooo fun to write about.
> 
> You're awesome just for being here XD


	8. Going To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's past comes back to haunt them eventually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers, no warnings. Just angsty fluff =]
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Going to Hell - The Pretty Reckless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmtbg5b7_Aw))

  _False face must hide what the false heart doth know_

 

She took her time about it, made him work for the answers but opening up to MacCready had lifted a weight off her shoulders. No one outside her line of work knew about her childhood, and even though the kids around her had gone through the same thing, no one ever spoke about it. It was the most honest thing to come out of her mouth in her entire life.

She didn’t trust easily, if at all, because she knew how easy it was for people to lie and she had gone into their arrangement adamant that she was going to lie to him at some point. But she hadn’t. Sure, she omitted the truth a couple of times but that was just a case of leaving certain details out rather than lying about them all together, she answered every question he had honestly (eventually). She prepared herself for his hatred, his disgust, even for him to walk away and never look back; but he didn’t. There he was, every day, right by her side, gun in his hands and his eyes on her ass. 

Just like her, MacCready had a past - his own missions to complete and demons to conquer - and just as she had been there for all his, he was determined to be there for hers. Even the ones she didn’t see coming.

They’d eventually got to Daisy’s shop when it was open, the ghoul hugged them both like they were her own children, and Daisy was more than happy to take the cure off their hands. All they had to do was wait.

Depending on how quickly Daisy’s caravan travelled and how much danger they ran into, it could be weeks before they heard any news and she needed to check back with Sanctuary. It had been a while since she’d spoken to Preston, and no doubt he would need her help with something. She still doubted she’d ever see herself as a leader but she was coming around to the idea of being General. And every settlement they helped swore allegiance to the Minutemen - maybe she could actually do some good.

In the Commonwealth days seemed to run together, she gave a thought to the anniversary of every major event of her life, she was grateful she’d been frozen for her birthday, having never really celebrated it. But in her head, and her heart, she knew what day it was before she even looked at her Pip-Boy.

October 9th.

Preston really did know how to pick his moments, she wasn’t mad at him, it wasn’t his fault; he didn’t know. She’d been avoiding travelling too far west just in case she went past it. In hindsight, she probably should have said no when he asked her to go over to Sunshine Tidings, but back before the world ended it was far enough away that she didn’t have to think about it. But the world was a lot different now, yet she still thought she would be strong enough to handle it. Until they arrived. She was focused on the task at hand, killing every feral she came across and removing the bodies until it remotely resembled the small village it had once been. It was rundown, a lot of the houses had walls missing.

_It’s going to require a lot of work._ That’s where her mind was, but her feet had other ideas. She had little, to no control, over it.

If she’d been a different version of herself, or anyone else entirely, it would have been the happiest day of her life. She would have been the one making the plans, going into town with her girlfriends, watching her mother’s eyes fill with tears when she saw her in a dress for the first time. But that’s not what happened. Nothing ever happened the way it was supposed to.

She was good at her job, the best in fact, and she’d erased everything about herself before meeting Nathaniel for the first time. She changed her entire being, making sure she played the perfect character for him to fall in love with; and he certainly did that. Nora was beautiful, naive, innocent like a butterfly, everything Nathaniel wanted in a woman.

She’d come far in six months. He brought her to Sanctuary on their third date, she met everyone in his inner circle and within three months she had moved in with him. On the outside, life in Sanctuary seemed pretty simple, women worked on their gardens or gossiped outside each others houses and the men…well, the men were doing their jobs.

Nathaniel’s phone was constantly glued to his ear, Gerard glued to his side and most of America’s most wanted drove in and out on a regular basis. But one day Nathaniel seemed extra distracted, no one went into the house and he locked himself away. Normally she’d welcome such a change but it only meant he was up to something. And he never stayed around long enough for her to figure out what. 

He told her he was taking her to dinner, he picked out her clothes, just like he always did, and she begun to put the pieces together when her eyes fell on the dress he’d picked for her to wear. It was the dress she wore the night she first met him and the car dropped them off at Monsignor Plaza; the place they first met. 

He was reenacting their first date. 

He ordered Nora’s favourite food, the finest bottle of champagne for the table and the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She forced herself to finish the last spoonful of cheesecake and not choke on it when he was down on one knee in front of her. Most people’s eyes had fallen on them as soon as his chair scraped against the floor. Nathaniel was never one for subtle gestures, he liked to make a big show of everything; he loved having an audience. Having people around made it less likely that people would make a scene, he’d told her.

_Oh no. Please don’t do this here_.

She was at war with herself, she was twenty three years old, she wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment; especially to a man she didn’t love. She wanted to scream 'No' and run out of the restaurant, never to lay eyes on him again. But she didn’t. A part of herself, the part she hated, was proud that it only took six months for him to fall that hard for her.

“Will you marry me?” he asked as he popped open the small jewellery box and her eyes fell on the large diamond in front of her.

The entire restaurant cheered but she hated herself just for letting the ‘Yes’ fall out of her mouth. She was scared and she was alone; no undercover waiter was going to save her from this decision. She’d made her bed, now she had to lie in it. She’d come too far in her mission to give up now and if he was asking her to marry him after only six months, it would only be a matter of time before he showed her the inside of his empire. The closer she got to him, the more she was inside his head…the quicker this whole fiasco would be over.

The only experience she’d had of marriage was from watching Matt and Carol. They were truly in love, everything they did, they did together. All decisions they made were to benefit the other, not themselves. That’s what love was, to sacrifice one’s own needs ahead of the needs of the person they promised to stay with for the rest of their life. But she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with Nathaniel, she hardly wanted to spend another hour with him. But it was her job to say yes.

The car brought them back to Sanctuary Hills and Nathaniel announced their engagement to the gathering crowd, everyone cheered; she faked a smile. She imagined that her family would have reacted that way, if she had one, her tears weren’t from joy - her life was over. The people of Sanctuary Hills were her family now, whether she wanted them to be or not.

He dragged her into the house immediately, practically ripping the dress off her as soon as the door was closed. She hated how he felt pressed against her skin, the noises he made when he was fucking her and she resisted the urge to cry every time he came inside her. She felt violated, like she was being raped every time he touched her. She never orgasmed with him, she never even came close. Nathaniel never cared about her satisfaction, as long as he saw a blinding light, nothing else mattered, every noise she made was fake, calculated to bring him closer to the edge. She wanted it to be over as soon as possible. He never used protection, as far as he was concerned she couldn’t conceive a child, what did it matter?

She hid her own contraception behind the house, what Nathaniel didn’t know, wouldn’t get her killed.

The next morning she was rudely awoken by a knock at the door. She nodded with fake, well-rehearsed enthusiasm when the women of Sanctuary descended upon her, shoving bridal magazines under her nose.

“Oooh, look at this one, this is pretty.” They commented on every dress, on every page.

She tried to smile, truly she did, but happiness was hard to fake - no matter how hard she had tried. All the dresses looked the same, white, pristine and none of the women on the pages were smiling, that was going to be her.

Nathaniel had kept his plans under wraps and it was the only time she couldn’t tell what he was planning. The only time she didn’t want to know what he was planning. That was the most annoying part of the whole thing. Her only job was to get ready on time and turn up. Everything else had been planned on her behalf.

She’d picked Liza Able to be her maid-of-honour. In truth she hadn’t picked her at all, Nathaniel had chosen Gerard, his loyal second-in-command, to be his best man and had all-but-told her that Liza was her maid of honour. She had no friends or family of her own and unless she wanted her side of the church to be empty, she was going to have to choose the women of Sanctuary as her wedding party, whether she wanted to or not.

When the big day had finally arrived she’d woken up early, her eyes and feet pointed at the door, resisting the urge to run. Everyone thought that her upset stomach was just butterflies. It was natural to be nervous, they told her, on the happiest day of her life. She was so good at her job that everyone really believed she wanted nothing more than to walk down the aisle and promise herself to him. Sure, she wanted to walk down the aisle, but she wanted to shoot him in the face; not marry him.

She stared, unforgivingly at herself, as she stood in her bedroom in her wedding dress. A crisp white, sweetheart neckline dress, ruffled and tucked in at all the right places and it cascaded down her body and the train ended a few metres away from her. It was covered in small diamonds that formed star-like patterns. It was nice, but she wouldn’t have picked it herself. It was paid for by the blood of Nathaniel’s enemies. She hated herself for even putting it on. It was too late to run away, if she didn’t follow through - if she turned him down - he’d kick her out of Sanctuary and she’d fail the mission. She never failed a mission before, she wasn’t about to start now.

Her long hair had been tied up and pulled back, exposing every feature and inch of her face, the curls of her hair brushed against her exposed back and tiny flowers were weaved throughout it. Rosa had barged her way into the house, immediately took control and threw her into a chair, her hands tugging at her hair before she even had the chance to register what was happening.

_When this is all over, I’m coming back and killing every single one of you._

The car that had picked her up was a topless, blue Corvega.

_Vintage 1956, classic two-door sports coupe. An eight-hundred horsepower engine, capable of zero to sixty in zero point three second_ s. As if she was supposed to be impressed. And she really tried to make it look like she was and they saw her tears as pure joy; the complete opposite of what she was actually feeling,

It was expensive, showy and over-the-top. It was the car version of Nathaniel. She wanted to scratch her stupid fucking engagement ring along it, cutting into the paint with the ridiculously sized diamond. But she knew that as soon as Nathaniel saw the mark, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch her in the face. He’d probably do it right inside the church, right under the watchful eye of God himself. The man was the physical embodiment of Lucifer.

She found herself travelling south, MacCready followed silently behind her. He didn’t ask where she was going, they both knew Sanctuary was the other way, but he followed regardless. When the chapel came into view over the hill, she found herself running towards it.

Her hands hesitated over the doorknobs before swinging them open and the inside of the run-down church stared back at her.

There were dozens of churches in Boston, he could have chosen any one of them but he had to choose this particular one. The Lonely Chapel…how aptly named.

_Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today…_

She didn’t see the dishevelled floor, the crumbling walls, even the skeletons that sat in the pews; praying in their last moments before death. She saw the candles that lit up the room, the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the flowers that littered the aisle. The smiling man she hated.

It was his eyes, behind so much evil she could see it, he really did love her. He was glad he was marrying her, so was Nora. She, however, was not. Her entire body was telling her to run, her instinct was telling her to run but she didn’t, she couldn’t - the mission was imperative. Nothing else mattered. 

_Not even your own self worth apparently._ Came a voice in her head when she found herself walking down the aisle, the bouquet in her hands and her dress jangling along the floor. The old her, the one that still remembered what it was like, before all the blood and lies. Her conscience. Just one of the many voices to tell her she was making the wrong choice, that she deserved more, that she was going to fail. She’d learnt to ignore them after a while, listening to them never changed a damn thing anyway.

She had her fingers crossed the entire time, her feet secretly pointed at the door.

_Remember the mission._

Those three words kept her grounded, spurred her on. None of this would matter once Nathaniel was behind bars and his organisation was torn apart. Everything would stop and the world would be a little safer. She’d let them destroy themselves, she’d plant the seed of doubt wherever she could and she’d bury herself so deep in Nathaniel’s head that he’d think he’d die without her. She just had to open her mouth.

_I, Nora Pendleton…_ What a stupid fucking name.

Her last training officer was called Pendleton, she always liked him, he was one of the few officers that never harmed her - intentionally. Never saw her flaws as weakness, he taught her to use everything she had. And studies had shown men were automatically more attracted to women whose name started with the same letter. As soon as he introduced himself to her, she started calling him ‘Nate’ - there was something in having their names the same length too. She could tell he felt the connection straightaway. She thought it was going to be easy.

She walked down the aisle in silence, her hands ran over the pews as she past, until she reached the raised platform and stopped. She stared down at herself, the lace white fabric of her wedding dress filled her vision, the bouquet of roses in her hand.

_I'll be your one and only…_

There were tears from the audience as he read out his vows. Every word was carefully chosen, and coming out of anyone else’s mouth, it would have been a sweet gesture but she heard his vows exactly how he meant them. It wasn’t a statement, a gesture of pure love, it was a command. He would kill her if she left him. The ring on her finger was a reminder, a symbol; he owned her.

They’d barely been married twenty four hours before he told her what she needed to do next. She didn’t want it, she told him that, but as soon as she’d taken his last name she had little choice in what happened to her. And just like the ring on her finger, it was another way for Nathaniel to claim her as his own.

The painting hung in their living room, his family crest stood proudly for everyone to see. She wondered just how ‘proud’ his parents would be, to see the man their son had become. She hoped they’d be like her, completely ashamed of him and his life choices. They’d probably beg her to end his tyranny.

It was happening, despite her protests, and she was at least hoping he’d take her into the city and it would be done by a professional, but no, she was dragged across the road to Rosa’s house and pinned to the chair. Her dress was lifted up and her legs parted. Then the grinding of the needle came. Nathaniel had chosen the fleshiest part of her body, but it didn’t make a difference, no matter what body part he would have chosen, the physical pain didn’t hurt nearly as much as the internal anguish she felt. 

She was a part of his family now, and like cattle at a farm, for the second time in her life, she was being branded. They all assumed the tears that formed in her eyes was from the pain, it was - just not the pain of what they were thinking. She was grateful that it was small, understated, and if she put her legs together tight enough, she couldn’t even see it. But she always knew it was there.

MacCready had seen it, that much was obvious, considering the amount of time he’d buried his head between her legs, but he never mentioned it. He never talked a lot about the things he saw when it came to her, he let her tell him in her own time, at her own pace. She never had someone so kind in her life before, not someone she could confide in anyway.

Over two hundred years, it was still pristine as ever and no matter how many times she sat in irradiated water, even if she sat for hours, it never disappeared. Even to this day she wanted to burn it off her perfect skin, to find a barrel of toxic waste and pour it over her legs, she didn’t care if it ruined her, she just wanted it gone. Nathaniel had tainted her, in more ways than one, and although he’d been dead a long time, she still wanted to kill him. She even considered bringing him back to life just so she could kill him herself, and watch the pain on his face when she finally told him the truth about who she was, why she was with him in the first place, and how she never loved him. She’d never get that satisfaction.

MacCready was a few metres behind, sensing her unease, staying beautifully quiet. She could sense his presence and heard the sound of wood scrapping against the floor. She heard him when he sat down and smiled to herself at where he was sat, on her side. He was always on her side, even when he didn’t know it. He didn’t get up until she stifled the sob that tried to leave her.

“Boss…” His voice was low, cautious.

“I’m fine,” she responded, coming back to reality. “Just…got something in my eye,” she lifted her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes before the tears had a chance to fall.

He didn’t press the issue, he just put a consoling hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. He knew she still had a few walls and she’d break them down eventually, he just had to give her time..

She cleared her throat, sick of the sentiment that plagued her. She was supposed to marry for love. Not for a job. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to marry a heartless bastard like Nathaniel. It wasn’t who she would have chosen. In her life before the War, she had very little choice in the way her life went, she wasn’t mourning Nathaniel or the death of her marriage, she was mourning the death of herself. Who she was before the world ended, before she woke up from her two-hundred and ten year nap - that person was gone. Dead and buried with the rest of the trash back in the Vault.

“Let’s go tell Preston that Sunshine’s all cleared up.” He spoke softly, taking her hand in his.

She fucking loved this kid.

They walked back out of the church and she slammed the door behind them.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

Nora was gone, so was Nathaniel, and everything she knew. It was finally time for her to be the person she always wanted to be.

She was smiling and joking after that, all the way back to Sanctuary and she knew MacCready was a little freaked out by her sudden change in demeanour, but like everything else, he took it in stride and let her do everything she wanted.

“Here,” he stopped as they reached an old abandoned cabin.

He dropped a small bag into her hand, she heard the jingle of metal against metal.

“Are…are you quitting?” she worried. Had she finally pushed him too far?

“What?” his eyes popped open before returning to their original position, “No! Of course I’m not quitting.”

The sympathetic smile he gave washed over her and relief settled in.

“I just wanted to give you back the hundred caps you gave me at the beginning,” his hands cupped the one she held the small bag in. “So you know it’s not about the caps anymore. I’m here because I want to be.”

She surged forward and hugged him, a little too much force behind her and they fell onto the grass. His hand stroked her hair whilst she laughed against his chest.

“I love you too, boss,” he chuckled.

“RJ,” she began as they rearranged themselves and sat on the ground. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

She didn’t want to accept the caps, although she appreciated the gesture, he needed them more but he was proud. She’d put them with the rest.

By the time the two of them returned to Sanctuary the sun had begun to set just beyond the horizon. A few of the settlers gawped as the two of them walked hand-in-hand up the pathway. She didn’t mind, they could think what they wanted, they normally did anyway. People in the Commonwealth rarely asked questions, they just accepted things for what they were. She was beginning to appreciate her new life.

Every time they came back to Sanctuary, more people seemed to appear. Ghouls, small families and lonely drifters. Sanctuary was blossoming into a real community. She looked at the smile on MacCready’s face when two young children ran past them, playing tag and she knew he was imagining Duncan playing with them.

“There’s still a hole in my ceiling!” moaned Marcy.

She was pretty sure it was directed at her but she was too happy to acknowledge it.

“She has got to be the most unappreciative person I have ever met,” commented MacCready, his mouth close to her ear. She breathed a laugh in response.

“Tell me about it, I honestly don’t know how Jun puts up with her.”

She did. She was sure MacCready knew, just like they both knew why Marcy was so angry all the time. They’d only ever discussed it once. She was afraid how the news affected MacCready, all in all he was okay; if not a little shaky. She knew he was remembering it too when he swapped his hands, the one that had grasped hers moved around her shoulders and he tugged her closer to him.

Evidently MacCready didn’t care that people were staring at them either.

“Young love,” commented Carla as they walked past, taking a drag from the cigarette that never seemed to leave her hand.

They laughed knowingly to each other.

They walked towards the yellow house in the centre of Sanctuary, the house the small group had huddled in during their first night in the settlement. Mama Murphy was sat in her signature chair, eternally grateful that she had made it for her. At first she didn’t mind giving her the chems she needed, but the woman was frail and she didn’t want to be the one responsible for killing her, she didn’t tell her she should stop taking them but she certainly stopped being the one giving them to her.

She went into this hoping she’d convince everyone to do everything for her, for themselves. But after a few weeks, she had gotten to know all of them, heard the stories of their tragic pasts and found herself wanting to help out around the place. She did what she could, when she wasn’t running around the Commonwealth helping out everyone that asked. MacCready was exhausted.

“Hey Preston,” she announced when she saw the familiar coat and hat in the living area. “We cleared out Sunshine Tidings, it’ll need a lot of work but I think it’ll make a good place for people to stay.”

The Minuteman smiled and readjusted himself before clearing his throat.

“General…”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘another settlement needs our help’ I swear I will take your hat and stuff it into your mouth.” Her face remained straight before erupting into a smile when she saw the shock on his face, “Preston…I’m kidding.”

His shoulders relaxed in relief and he reciprocated her smile.

“Actually, this time it’s a little different.”

He began to walk out of the house and she pulled MacCready along with her as she followed.

“The Minutemen are stronger than they’ve been in decades, thanks to you.” His smile was full of nothing but admiration. “There’s a castle, south-east of the Commonwealth. Fort Independence - it was used by the original Minutemen…I think it’s time we make it ours once again.”

“That’s an amazing idea! Any Minutemen wandering the Commonwealth will finally have a place to work from.”

Preston was slightly taken aback by her enthusiasm, it had been a while since he could trust someone but the General had done more than even he originally expected. She’d saved them all more times than he could count. He really had made the best decision in naming her General.

“Do you really think the three of us can do it?” She asked, shooting a look at MacCready before returning her gaze to him.

“There’s a small group of Minutemen close to its location. Word’s probably spread of our return, it won’t be difficult to convince them to help.”

In other words, it wouldn’t be hard for _her_ to convince them to help. She could convince anyone to do anything.

“When you’re ready, just give me the word and we’ll travel there.”

“Absolutely.”

He tipped his hat at her before striding off ahead.

“I think the man’s got a thing for you,” teased MacCready once Preston was out of earshot. “Oof.”

It had been a while since she’d elbowed him in the ribs, he’d forgotten how much it hurt.

“I’ve only got eyes for you, babe,” she smiled coyly before kissing his cheek.

“You are such a flirt!” he pulled her close to him and kissed her forehead. “So, what do you need to do around here?”

“Well, there’s so many new faces, I need to introduce myself. Sam, the Vault-Tec guy,” she added at his confusion, “I just want to check up on him, he was so angry back in Goodneighbor and I promised I’d come back and see him, which of course I have but I’ve not really had the chance to talk to him properly.”

She was feeling a bit guilt-ridden about it, sure he definitely seemed happier, helping out around Sanctuary and being surrounded by other people, but he was still a little bitter. So was she quite frankly, but she was going to tell him what she’d only just realised hours ago, holding onto the past wasn’t going to help him live. But MacCready didn’t need to know that part.

“Sturges never seems to stop working,” moving on, ”I mean I know he’ll never accept the help but I’d like to think he’ll appreciate the gesture all the same.”

“Who knew you’d become such a people person.”

“I blame you,” she smiled before continuing. “And Codsworth is probably clawing at the walls, waiting to see me.”

“Mum!” came the Mr. Handy’s voice, as if saying his name had caused him to appear. “Oh! How I’ve missed you!”

He was the only thing left from her old life in Sanctuary that she was glad to still see. Even if it did annoy the crap out of her every time he called her ‘mum’ but she supposed it was better than ‘ma’am’ and he didn't know her real name. No one did.

“I’ve missed you too,” she felt the urge to hug him but he was bulky and had more arms than an octopus, he’d probably accidentally set on fire from shock. “Codsworth, where’s Sam?” she winced, already knowing the answer.

“In his room, mum, he’s always locking himself in there after dinner…doesn’t talk to anyone.”

_Oh no_.

“I need to do this alone,” she stated, hugging MacCready and releasing herself from his grip. “Go get something to eat, I’ll come find you later.”

“You got it, General.” She laughed when he saluted her, unlike Preston, he did it in jest.

When she finally left his house she eyed the time on her Pip-Boy. 3am. It had taken longer than she originally anticipated, Sam was a lot more hurt and damaged than she realised.

He was surprised to see her at his door, he thought she was never going to talk to him again. That hurt a little. She had made a promise to him and she always kept her promises.

She sat and listened as he revealed his life story to her. The family he never had the chance to have because work always got in the way, he was Vault-Tec through and through and she admired his loyalty. The centuries he’d spent wandering alone in the Commonwealth, hiding in caves and praying for death, but being a ghoul meant the only way he would die was if he was killed and no matter how much he wished it, nothing ever killed him. Ferals seemed to tolerate other ghouls, not even realising they were just irradiated versions of themselves. Somewhere deep inside, they were still human and she hated herself for killing them so willingly. She made a silent promise to herself not to kill them...unless they attacked her first.

He apologised for what Vault-Tec had done to her after every sentence. She kept telling him he didn’t need to, he didn’t know what they had planned for humanity, what they’d done. It wasn’t his fault and the blame was not his burden to bear. She swore, if she ever met the head of Vault-Tec she was going to slit their throat, Vault-Tec certainly had a lot to answer for.

He had told her how most people ignored and hated him just because of his association with them, though she sensed it was in his head. She kindly suggested it may have been because he was determined to keep wearing the uniform - which had stayed in surprisingly prime condition, even after two hundred years. She saw him smile for the first time when she told him she’d find him a new suit, promising to find the cleanest one possible.

She knew from the way the words were spilling from his mouth that he’d never had the chance to tell anyone anything about himself before. She saw the invisible weight lift from his shoulders; adding therapist to her list of occupations. It was strange, for so many people the war had resulted in death, loss and regret, but the way people seemed to have banded together, though still at war with themselves, the world seemed better somehow. It was time for Sam to take a step into the real world and she just needed to give him a push. 

“How would you like to work for the Minutemen? I don’t mean fighting or anything, trust me, you’ll be safe. I promise.”

His eyes lit up at her words.

“It’s just, we’re finding new settlements all the time, there are dozens of caravans out there now, just coming and going…I haven’t had a chance to sit down and go over the map. I need someone,” she did and he needed a distraction, “I need someone to help plan better, safer, trade routes and generally just manage everyone. It’ll be really hard work, but what do you say?”

“Really?” his voice was gravelly as ever but it wasn’t full of anger or sadness. “Are you sure?”

One more push.

“Absolutely! After all the years you spent organising everything for Vault-Tec…there’s no one more qualified for the job.”

Inflating his self worth a little, she could tell it was working.

“I’ll ask Sturges to convert the old utility room into an office, maybe even set up a terminal so you don’t have to carry a clipboard and pen in your hand all the time."

He had it in his hands the first moment they met, over two centuries ago, and it didn't leave his grasp as he knocked on all the other houses.

"So, what do you say?”

“I’ll do it!” he exclaimed immediately, not even having to think it over for a second.

She left the house smiling but exhausted, Sam was whistling and she noticed the spring in his step. She was surprised when he hugged her, the embrace was full of nothing but thanks and admiration. This new her, whoever she was, really loved helping people.

She headed back to the communal hall, where everyone usually met to eat and smiled when she saw MacCready sat on the floor, his back against the wall, sound asleep.

“RJ,” she whispered into his ear, not wanting to startle him awake. He groaned. “Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“You said you’d come find me.” He mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and looked at her with lids half-opened. “How’d it go?”

“He’s got a long way to go,” she looked back down at the house. “But he’ll get there. I’ll have to introduce myself in the morning. Come on,” she outstretched her hand for him to take and helped him to his feet.

He expected her to walk him to the carport of her old house but she dragged him right, before the road, and took him further down the path. They both silently marvelled at the progress Sturges had made on her house and MacCready took note of the house nearby and wondered if anyone had claimed it yet. She took him off the path, across the grass and down to the river.

She rested her elbows on the wall and looked out into the night sky. She focused on the same star she always did, the brightest one in the sky. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I got married in that Church,” Her voice was frail, sad, and she opened her eyes as she spoke. “Yesterday was my wedding anniversary.”

He already knew from previous conversations that she had been forced to marry a man she didn’t love. Who he was and her job to shut down what she had referred to as a Drug Cartel. He still didn’t truly understand but it seemed to bother her a lot. She only really seemed to do stuff that benefitted other people, never herself and she needed to take some time for herself. If only, once in a while, she would listen to him.

“See, this is where I mention the whole saying no thing,” looking out into the night sky, he took a step forward and wrapped an arm around her neck. Her head automatically came to rest on his shoulder.

“I know. I thought it was far away enough that I wouldn’t think about it…But it was like I had no control over it, I just….went there.”

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him, he smelt like soap. Well, that was new. He hadn’t smelt like that before, usually just cigarettes and whiskey, with a hint of gunpowder. It was nice…he smelt too clean now. She silently laughed to herself at the thought, since when was there such as a thing too clean in a world with radiation storms? She closed her eyes, her head moving slightly as his chest moved up and down against her. He was taking a deep breath,

“Who were you saying goodbye to?” She broke away from him in surprise, her hand on his chest.

“Myself.” She admitted. “I mean, the person I was. The old me…she died the day I woke up in that pod.”

Talking about her marriage, to MacCready of all people, was difficult. He lost his wife, but he loved Lucy; she didn’t love Nathaniel.

_It must be heartbreaking to mourn someone you love…_

She wanted to know what it was like, that level of pain. To feel something so completely real she thought her heart would explode. That’s when people know they’re truly alive. She hadn’t even come close to feeling that way about anyone in her life, even the man whose arms were wrapped around her. Sure she loved MacCready but she didn’t think her heart would explode if something happened to him, yeah she’d be pretty fucking sad but not so sad she couldn’t live. He probably felt the same way too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Deacon in this one...I know! =O but, as much as I would have liked to put him in this, I couldn't really find a place for him. But knowing Deacon, he's there somewhere =]


	9. Holding Out for A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's used to people not knowing who she is, and it rarely blows up in her face.  
> Rarely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for The Silver Shroud.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Holding Out for A Hero - Bonnie Tyler](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWcASV2sey0))

_ The better part of valour is discretion. _

 

Plenty of movies had been made about the subject, she always indulged Billy when he wanted to talk about it but, in her experience, there were no such things as heroes. Not the sort you saw on tv, or listened to on the radio anyway. The real heroes were the ones fighting to make the world a better place, but no one ever spoke about them.

The idea was nice, saving the innocent and punishing the guilty, but people were always more dimensional in real life than they were in a comic book. A happy ending was rare but Billy liked her reading to him, and she always found it hard to say no to him, a fact he was well aware of and often used to manipulate her. Secretly she was proud of him. 

On the rare nights Matt and Carol actually ventured outside of the house, she was left alone to babysit Billy, though she never really saw it as ‘babysitting’ and more often than not, he’d want to listen to the Silver Shroud show on Galaxy News radio. And of course, she would indulge him. Billy had definitely listened to them too much, he knew almost every line before it was said and he had the Shroud’s voice almost perfect.

So, when she was walking around the Commonwealth, fiddling with her Pip-Boy and saw the words ‘Silver Shroud Radio’ she had little control over it when she tuned in. Almost immediately she mentally went down memory lane and she felt as though she was back in their living room, sat on the couch with Billy and actually enjoying herself. 

Until a voice pulled her back to the present.

“You know, the guy that runs that radio station is in Goodneighbor,” kindly pointed out MacCready.

“You’re kidding?” MacCready shook his head. “Well, how’s that for a coincidence.”

They were headed to Goodneighbor anyway, it had been a few weeks since they’d dropped off the serum to Daisy and she was dying to know if Daisy had heard any news about Duncan.

“If you want…we can always see if we can find a Mistress of Mystery outfit,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

MacCready took her to Hubris Comics and whilst they did not find a Mistress of Mystery outfit, they did find several ferals (that she really tried not to kill) and a particular glowing feral that ‘just refused to die’. She also found something almost as good as the MoM outfit.

_Billy’s going to freak_. She smiled and held the coat up in front of her.

She wanted to run straight to his house and show him, but going to Goodneighbor took precedence over anything else.

_What about Shaun?_

She knew what they should be doing, they should have done it weeks ago, they should be on their way to Diamond City to visit Valentine. But no matter how much she tried to will herself, remind herself that it was the whole reason she left the vault in the first place and that it was her only lead, her feet just wouldn't move in the direction of Diamond City.

She knew why, MacCready did too, no matter how many times she said she wanted to find the answers on her own before asking for help.

She was terrified. 

She never remembered anything she dreamt about, but even asleep, she couldn’t forget the face of the man who destroyed her life. _Bald, scar over left eye. Voice like sandpaper._ She listened out for that voice everywhere they went, in the hopes that he’d let his guard down. Every night she remembered him leaving with Shaun and she screamed herself awake, waking MacCready up in the process. He never asked her what was wrong, didn’t have to, deep down he knew what she was dreaming about. He just held her tightly and quietly shushed her until she fell back asleep. She would be lost without him, definitely would have lost her mind by now.

They’d come far in just a few weeks. MacCready had been different with her ever since they left Daisy’s shop, he’d stopped complaining almost completely and he seemed to make it his life’s mission to make her scream his name every night. And she did, every single night without fail. So, for him, she’d given him a day of doing nothing - which turned into him wanting to go to Goodneighbor to check in with Daisy.

She was only too happy to accompany him, she had an investment in Duncan’s wellbeing now too and she liked Daisy. She imagined Daisy was like what her grandmother could have been like, if she’d had one. A heart of gold, sweet, kind and absolutely terrifying at the same time. She’d learnt pretty quickly that quite a lot of people were scared of Daisy, Hancock included.

They were barely through the gates of Goodneighbor before someone was trying to pry the Silver Shroud costume out of her arms but the old ghoul quickly retracted when she pointed her gun at him. Kent was sweet, a little stuck in the past (like all the ghouls in Goodneighbor - why else would a place like the Memory Den exist?) but he quickly apologised, and as soon as she heard his voice, she recognised it immediately.

“You!” she exclaimed in a childlike voice that wasn't hers. “You’re the one that hosts the Silver Shroud channel, aren’t you?”

He nodded frantically, fearing she’d still shoot him. She was quick to put her gun back in its holster and he sighed in relief. It all went downhill from there.

Kent instructed her through the radio towards the ne’er-do-wells and miscreants that were, ironically, making Goodneighbor an unsafe place to live. AJ was the worst of them all, she was fine with chem dealers, they came in spades in the Commonwealth, but she couldn’t stand that he was selling to kids.

One thing led to another and suddenly the Mayor of Goodneighbor was requesting an audience with the Silver Shroud. She should have just told him, taken off the stupid hat and sunglasses and shown him it was her. But she loved playing different characters, and there was no better character to play than the Silver Shroud. She only wished Billy was there with her, not for the killing parts, obviously.

So she liked running around dressed as a superhero, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen in Goodneighbor not even close, and he only left her to it because she’d obviously forgotten the reason they were there in the first place. He made his way over to Daisy’s shop, left with a smile on his face after hearing her caravan had successfully reached Duncan, and almost fell on his ass when the Silver Shroud ran past him. He chuckled to himself as he watched her run back and forth through the streets, she was still doing everything she could for everyone else; it was about time she did something fun.

He wasn’t offended when she told him that she was going to live on her own - in fact, he actively encouraged it. He was the one that suggested she needed a place to call her own and staying in her old marital home was probably not the best idea, and he’d already told Sturges he was claiming the empty house next to hers. He still needed to stay close to her; the best friend he ever had.

Just like everything, fun eventually turned into serious and she was running up to him, asking him to help her because she’d made a mistake. She didn’t make them often and admitted to them even less.

She was back in her jumpsuit all the way to Milton General, all the way through the corridors. Right up until they reached the door, where they could hear Sinjin and his men threatening Kent. 

Then she put on the coat.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ He knew she saw it written on his face, she always did. 

She raised an eyebrow at him as she put the Shroud’s scarf around her neck and winked as she put on the sunglasses. He, too, could read the look on her face.

_Shame we never found the Mistress of Mystery costume, you’d look real good in it._

It was official, they’d been travelling together too long now.

The Silver Shroud opened the doors and he stayed a distance behind. A gasp left her mouth and he knew she was looking at Kent, meanwhile, he was looking at Sinjin and the gun in his hand. He drummed and wrapped his fingers around his gun, ready to shoot at any moment.

He doubted that even the real Silver Shroud could invoke fear with his voice as much as she could. It was said so casually, yet with so much venom that even he felt like running.

“This is what’s going to happen,” her head moved from side to side as she scanned the room, grabbing the attention of every person in there. “Everyone that points a gun at me…dies.” 

He knows she ended with a smile, he could hear it in her voice. She’d taught him a lot over the past few months.

Every single one of the practically ran out of the building, leaving Sinjin alone in the room with Kent tied up and on his knees in front of him.

She had a split second to react but before she could even lift her pistol, she heard the gunshot and Sinjin’s lifeless body fell to the ground. MacCready’s rifle was smoking and she patted him on the shoulder before running over to the injured ghoul.

It took both of them, supporting his weight between them, to carry him back to Goodneighbor. Irma fussed over him, but she warned her off with one glare. She wouldn’t let anyone, besides MacCready, in the room when they sat him down in his chair, examining his wounds herself.

The guilt really set in when she realised just how hurt he really was. His knees were badly bruised, swelled up to twice their normal size, there was a deep gash on his head from where he’d obviously been hit with the butt of a gun several times and his arm was broken in three places. Kent was shaking the entire time and she knew he wanted to break down and cry, she told him it was okay but he kept himself together. He probably hated being so vulnerable and she was practically a stranger to him.

She only had herself to blame, she could have put a stop to this at any point. But it had been fun, up until she met with Hancock. 

_John._

Whilst she knew she deserved the guilt she felt, someone else needed to feel it too.

“RJ, look after him. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out of the room and ran into the Old State House, ignoring the protests of the guards as she flew up the spiral staircase and she didn’t even bother knocking when she reached the door to his office.

‘Quick-reflexes' Fahrenheit already had her gun pointed at her when she burst through the door but quickly lowered it in recognition. The Shroud had been here before.

She stormed over to him and, as hard as she could, slapped him around the face, knocking away the cigarette that hung between his ruined lips. Even Fahrenheit’s mouth fell open in shock.

She lowered the sunglasses and Hancock’s mouth fell open even more.

“That’s right, you ass.”

He seemed to terrify everyone else, but not her, she could see him for what he really was. A big fucking kid with the role of an adult. Clearing out a few warehouses was one thing, but he’d put more than one life at risk with this crap.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being used like that,” she wasn’t quite shouting but she was certainly angry. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

He stood in silence and put another cigarette between his fingers. If he even thought about lighting it, she was going to slap him again.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

She normally loved her nickname, normally.

“I didn’t think it was gonna go down like that.” His voice was firm but calm. He still had to save face, he was the Mayor after all.

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!” she grabbed the nearest thing to her and flung it at him. “Forget about me, do you have any idea what Kent has been through? Why, why didn’t you tell him how much danger he was putting himself in? Do you know how long it’s going to take for him to heal? And that’s just physically.”

Hancock was reckless, a little impulsive but he’d gone too far this time. Okay, so he wasn't entirely to blame, but he deserved some of the guilt she was feeling. Kent was an innocent in comparison to the two of them, a fucking saint if you put the two of them together, he deserved better.

She needed him there, because maybe Kent would talk then, but there was no way she was going to admit that to him. Instead, she channelled one particular ghoul, the only ghoul Hancock was terrified of.

“He’s supposed to be your friend, John!” It was the first time she’d called him by his first name. “Go! Go apologise to him.”

He didn’t move. Mostly from shock. Right before his eyes Sunshine had disappeared and Daisy had taken her place. Sure, yeah, it was still her but it wasn't... _her_.

“ _Now_!”

She had to be the only person, besides Daisy, he knew that could make him feel like a kid without actually shouting at him. 

She was practically shoving him out the door, down the stairs and across the road. They were drawing quite the crowd, the Mayor being pushed by a covered up smooth-skin was certainly a sight to see. He looked like a kid, a kid in big trouble. Well…she was older than him. And he had to grow up at some point.

Hancock’s demeanour immediately changed as soon as his eyes fell on Kent and she could see the guilt in his face, the guilt they both shared. Kent seemed to relax more in Hancock’s presence and her heart broke when he told them he was probably better off dead.

“Kent, my man, you know that’s not true.” Hancock was knelt down at his side, his hand rested soothingly on the ghoul’s shoulder.

“Think of everything you’ve done,” she was knelt down in front of him, her hands wrapped around his, her thumbs stroking the back of his hands. “There would still be kids hooked on chems, overdosing in the streets…and what about Shelly Tiller? She’d be dead if it weren’t for you!”

“You’ve saved a lot of lives,” she smiled at MacCready’s words.

“You had fun, didn’t you? I mean, I know it got a little dark at the end but I think you know how much good you were doing. You can’t give up on the radio station.” She’d only just discovered it. “Don’t give up on the things that make you happy. You’re a little battered and bruised Kent, but you’re still alive.”

It took the rest of the night, and a lot of the morning, to convince him his life was still worth living. They sat and listened as he laid out his life before them and she was sure, judging by the look on his face, that Hancock hadn’t heard about Kent’s life before the War.

Kent had a wife, a daughter…they were dead, or lost to him, he didn’t know. She didn’t say it out loud but she was pretty sure that if they were alive, they would have found him by now. His old house was in ruins and there was no trace of them. He’d been in Goodneighbor long before Hancock was Mayor, back when it was run by Vic and the boys. It was fascinating to listen to him, he spoke as if he’d never told anyone before. Maybe he hadn’t.

“So, am I forgiven?” asked Hancock when they returned to the streets. 

“Yeah…am I?”

“Of course, sister.” Hancock flung his arm around her shoulders. “Fancy coming upstairs?”

She knew what that question meant and she wasn’t sure why she was suddenly looking at MacCready, as if asking permission. He shrugged in response and walked away from the two of them.

“One second,” she told Hancock before removing herself from him and running up to MacCready.

“Hey, RJ!” he stopped immediately and she bit her lip at how submissive he could be. “Make sure you get our usual room and I’ll come find you later?” she shoved the caps in his hand and kissed him. Ignoring Hancock’s catcalls as she shoved her tongue down his throat.

“Geez, lady,” his finger ran over his swollen lip when they broke apart. “Not so hard, take it easy on a gal, will ya?” he chuckled at his own joke and touched her arm before continuing to walk towards the Rexford Hotel.

“I can’t believe you called me John.” Hancock rasped when they returned to their original position. “Only Daisy calls me that, and she only calls me that when I’m in the shit.”

When it came to Daisy, he was in the shit a lot.

“Daisy!” She exclaimed, remembering the reason they’d travelled to Goodneighbor in the first place.

It was so easy to get distracted in the Commonwealth

“The people of Goodneighbor are going to start thinking you’re sharing your bed with a smooth-skin.” She joked.

The people of Goodneighbor were, for good reason, a little wary of smooth-skins and because of her relationship with the Mayor, her in particular.

“You could take the couch.” He suggested as he opened the door for her.

_Such a gentleman._

She scoffed.

“John, I have never taken the couch in my life. Not if there’s a perfectly good bed so close. I assume the Mayor of Goodneighbor has the luxury of a double-bed?”

“Queen size, baby.” She scowled at him when he slapped her ass as she walked in.

They never had sex, that’s not what their relationship was. Of course, she could see the appeal, why so many smooth skins came to Goodneighbor ‘looking for a good time’, the way a ghoul’s skin was scarred and misshapen, she could only imagine what his dick looked like. It could probably hit places that no regular man could…Not that she had been imagining it!

Hancock didn’t know too much about her, she’d made sure of that but for a man in his position he was far too comfortable airing his dirty laundry and the man had a lot of dirty laundry. Most of which was on his floor. Honestly, he literally had no shame whatsoever. Her walls were not so easily broken.

She was calm, almost content, definitely happy. Not just because of the Jet in her system, sure that was helping, but because they’d given Kent hope; she truly helped someone and she couldn't remember the last time she did that. She realised, that since waking up two centuries later, that was all she seemed to be doing. From helping MacCready, on more than one occasion, helping Billy (again) to securing settlements for the Minutemen across the Commonwealth. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. She never remembered being this happy.

She never felt more at home when she was getting high with Hancock, her head resting on his lap as they talked about mindless crap. Her bandana was on the floor, her sunglasses still perfectly safe over her eyes.

“Hey John…” her voice was soft, flowing.

“Yeah, Sunshine?”

“Did you know…” she waited for the right moment, just as he popped the mentat onto his tongue. “I’m two-hundred and thirty-five years old?”

She stifled a laugh when he choked on it.

“Fuck off.” He coughed. “There’s no way you’re over two-hundred years old.”

“Well, I was asleep for two-hundred and ten of them…does it still count?”

He chuckled, it was deep raspy. She loved listening to him laugh, there was something so real about it.

“What’s the story with you and MacCready?” If he had eyebrows, one of them would definitely be raised.

“Why? You scared of a little competition, are you?” she smiled at him. He was always fun to flirt with because he gave as good as he got.

“As if, sister, I mean look at me,” he gestured to his own body. “There’s no contest. Just me and whoever comes in second place. Is it serious?”

“Define serious,” she raised an eyebrow at him, his hand shook her hair affectionately. “I mean we save each other’s lives on a daily basis, we have each other’s back…that’s pretty serious. He’s pretty serious about the whole caps thing. We love each other…that’s kinda serious too. So, yeah, you could say there’s a lot of _seriousness_ to our relationship.”

She was too good with words sometimes.

“Cut the bullshit, Sunshine.” But he was still smiling. Sometimes, Hancock knew more than he let on.

“It is what it is. It’s not serious but it’s not nothing, it just _is_. But in answer to what you actually want to know, MacCready is my friend, nothing more, nothing less. I couldn’t imagine my life without him but he’s not my boyfriend.” She ended with a mocked voice. She always hated that word, it was just so, 2077.

He almost looked relieved.

“Why?”

“I can’t have the best looking centuries-old, non-ghoul tying herself down now, can I? So have you always been a Jet-girl?”

“I used to take Day Tripper, but it’s so hard to come by these days. I’m not exactly going to buy from Fred, someone might see! And I can’t remember the last time I was around a chemistry station.”

“Take a day off once in a while and I’ll teach you how to do it.” He advised, no agenda, just pure kindness. She adored him.

A day off…that would be nice. Except, they had to get back to Sanctuary because she had to talk to Preston. It was time.

“I think the people of Goodneighbor might start a revolt if I keep spending too much time with you.”

Oh, how wrong she was. For a girl who saw almost everything, she was so blind sometimes. The people, _his_ people, found it difficult to trust. Couldn’t blame them really, not after what happened in Diamond City. But they adored his little Sunshine, yeah she was older but she was so damn tiny. If he didn’t know better he’d think she wouldn’t be able to fight a mole rat but, man, the girl was tougher than most of the brutes in this town combined. She could take them all on at once, barehanded, and still come out on top. Everyone was just too damn proud to show their affection for her.

_Give ‘em time._ He repeatedly told himself.

For the most part, just the fact that the Mayor himself liked her was enough for them and he knew Daisy adored the pants off of her. She fitted in from the start. She was a badass with an attitude to match, she talked a lot but rarely said anything. Some people have walls…He could never understand them really, just say what you want and fuck the rest, it was pretty much how he lived his life. It was the very nature of a town like Goodneighbor. A nice little don’t ask, don’t tell policy.

_Don’t worry Sunshine, I’ll break through ‘em eventually._

She woke up, not entirely sure of the time, moaning in delight at the soft sheets underneath her. She pulled the pillow closer to her face and buried herself in it. It smelt of smoke, stale alcohol and…

_Oh shit._

She clambered to her knees and quickly placed a hand on her chest.

_Good._

She still had her clothes on. And she was even more relieved to see that the Mayor, who was sleeping soundly next to her, still had all his on too.

She couldn’t remember much, Jet always did fuck with her brain. They’d joked about his bed, of course, it was pretty impressive, but she knew MacCready was probably asleep in the Rexford, alone; waiting for her to turn up.

She grabbed her jacket off the table and bent down to kiss Hancock on the forehead. His face contorted slightly before turning into a smile and he rolled on to his side.

The streets of Goodneighbor were relatively empty, if she ignored the dozen sleeping bodies on the ground. More and more drifters seemed to make their way to Goodneighbor every time she was there, and they never seemed to leave once they were through the gate. Hancock really needed to find these people jobs.

Clair didn’t so much as look up from her desk when she entered the hotel. She made the realisation that MacCready had the only key to the room and she really didn’t want to wake him up.

“Psst, Fred.” He was leaning against the support beam he seemed to be glued to.

“Need somethin’ to take the edge off, sister?”

She was a little offended but then she suspected that anyone talking to him about something that wasn’t chems was probably a rare occurrence.

“No, I’m good.” She looked back over at Clair, who still had her head buried in her terminal. “I just need the spare key to room fifteen. Do you think you could get it for me?”

He said nothing, just stared at her with vacant eyes.

“Or cause a distraction? So I can get it myself.”

His smile was mischievous as he nodded.

“Can do!”

He waited for her to step away from him before slapping a hand to his chest.

“Oh! Oh!” Clair still hadn’t budged. “OH!” He tugged his shirt into his fist and yelled.

“Fred! What is it this time?” The woman, begrudging, got out from behind the desk.

“I think that last mentat did it!” He fell to his knees. “I…I see a white light. Do I move towards it?”

“If you die in my lobby!” She bent down next to him as he slumped to the floor, still holding his chest.

She shuffled herself along the wall and stayed low to the ground as she went around the desk. Carefully, quietly, she opened the drawer and quickly grabbed the extra key with the number ’15’ etched into it.

She held it up in the air in Fred’s direction and gave him a thumbs-up before running, silently, up the stairs. She had to stifle a laugh when she heard Fred jump to his feet.

“Oh, I guess it was just gas.”

She could hear the soft sounds of MacCready’s sleeping form as soon as she stepped into the room. Carefully and quietly she walked over to the bed and undressed. She carefully slipped her body into the bed and as soon as she was settled in, MacCready wrapped his arm around her and pushed his body into hers. 

He didn’t say a word as he buried his head in the crook her neck and began kissing the sensitive flesh there. The hand pressed possessively on her stomach slipped down below her underwear, brushed through the patch of hair and she gasped when two fingers parted her lips and his middle finger began frantically moving against her clit.

She pushed her ass into his groin and slipped a hand around the back of his neck to pull at his hair. The harder she tugged the faster his fingers moved, she’d figured out that little trick a while ago. The hand not working overtime on her downstairs streamed up her body and landed on her breast, he squeezed each one in turn before trailing it back down her body to pull her underwear down to her knees.

Her breathing was becoming rugged, his name was leaving her mouth in a whisper, which became less of a whisper the faster he moved his fingers. The hand that had just successfully pulled down her underwear moved to cover her mouth, because they both knew how loud she could get when he reallly got her going.

“Are you going to come?” he whispered in her ear. She whimpered and nodded her head. “Good.”

He immediately stopped playing with her clit and moved his hand completely away. She had a muffled protest that he ignored.

“That’s for spending the evening with Hancock,” his voice was so dominant in her ear that she almost came from the sound of it. “And this, this is for not sleeping with him.”

Without warning he thrust two fingers inside of her and thrust in and out faster than a piston pump on a mustang. She tried to move the hand away from her mouth but he only hardened the pressure, in every sense.

His hand was drenched almost to the wrist and he continued to move his fingers in and out of her, not forgetting to add a third, and with the power of his legs and the friction of the mattress he managed to free his erection from his boxers. The second he felt, and heard, her come, he removed his hand and quickly replaced the loss with his dick, before she’d even had a chance to come down from her orgasm.

He fucked her close and slow, revelling in the feel of her skin pressed against his and her hands searched for every part of him they could find. In an awkward manoeuvre, she turned her head to look at him, her green eyes glistened at him, and he felt her smile against his hand. Before her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“I’ll take my hand away, if you promise to be good,” he teased, biting the skin just below her earlobe.

“I make no promises,” it was muffled but he heard it.

“Good enough.” 

He finally removed the hand from her face and she dragged in every fresh breath she could. He wrapped both arms around her and pressed her back as close to his chest as he could. His hips still moved slow but with precision and she was enjoying every moment of it. 

It was in complete contrast to how they usually fucked, normally they went at it like mongrels on heat. Rough, hard and fast. But there was always an excuse when they did it like that, she was high on adrenaline, he was pissed at her for something. There wasn’t an excuse this time, they were just doing it because they wanted to. MacCready  was taking his time because he wanted to show her how much he actually cared about her.

It was the first time anyone showed her that much love and affection.

By the time MacCready came she was limbless, exhausted and staggered breaths left her mouth as silent tears streamed down her face.

“Hey,” she turned away from him and sniffed, the sort of sniff Lucy used to do when she was crying and didn’t want him to see. “You okay?”

He pushed her shoulder, forcing her to lay on her head and she unwillingly looked at him. Her eyes were glazed over and he could see the tear stains down her face.

“Did I hurt you?” She shook her head. “Then what is it?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head side to side, a slight smile betraying her otherwise sad demeanour. She rolled on to her side to face him and pulled him into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he gave a light-hearted laugh, somewhere between confused and amused. Sometimes, for a woman who seemed hard as nails, she was such a girl.

Their ragged breaths began to steady out and eventually they fell asleep to the sound of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading xx


	10. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be just about MacCready but I couldn't help but put a little Deacon in there.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Stars - Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qrIoH3RqYw))

_He is winding the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike._

 

It had been a busy couple of weeks, for him at least. He finally found the synth Dez was asking him to find…Okay,  _he_ didn’t find them at all, Nick did all the hard work for him, he just spoke to the guy. And as he predicted, the guy panicked, begged him not to tell anyone or to send him back to the Institute.

So, he did the responsible, _nice_ , thing and told Dez the synth was nowhere to be found and had obviously escaped. She was annoyed (to be honest there weren’t many moments when she wasn’t annoyed) naturally, but he saw the relief on her face when she realised the synth had clearly got out of Diamond City unharmed.

Perhaps that’s all he had to do when she forced him to do something he didn’t agree with, something he spent most of his life doing. He just had to lie. Doing that to a stranger or a mark (possibly both) was easy, they didn’t know him; unfortunately the boss did. But Dez let him have his lies, or at least let him have the lies that didn’t directly involve her — if they did, he normally just got told off. Like she was his mom.

_Stop telling people you’re in charge of the Railroad…Stop telling people I’m your mother…Stop telling Tom you’re a time-traveller._

It was like she didn’t want him to have fun at all. And the last one was hardly his fault, Tom had reached that conclusion all on his own, no matter how many times he told the man it wasn’t true. Well, that’s what he got for lying all the time, no one believed him even when he was telling the truth.

The rest of time had been spent running missions for whatever safehouse needed him and listening to the radio, a little louder than necessary, whilst stuck in HQ. They’d settled well into the Old Church, though there were a damn sight less of them to get settled in the first place. The Institute hit the Switchboard hard, they’d lost a lot of good people, and he was trying to hint at Des that a particular woman (who was still running around the Commonwealth helping everyone) might require their attention. Hence, Travis’ voice blaring and echoing throughout the whole of HQ. 

He turned it down when it was playing music, though it was a shame because ever since ‘new’ Travis had come along the music had improved. And, to be quite honest, he only turned it down when Dez asked him to. But for some 'unknown' reason, the radio was louder every time the words ‘vault dweller’ left the radio host’s mouth. 

One hundred and thirty two days since she’d left the vault and yet no one in the Railroad was talking about her, not out loud at least. Dez had to be the most stubborn woman he ever met, even the idea of the Railroad going up to someone and asking them to join was apparently ‘too good’ for them. Though that hadn’t been the case when the Railroad approached _him_ and if the sign at the beginning of the Freedom Trail was any indication, Dez didn’t give two shits about leading people to them.

Women. The most confusing subject in the universe let alone the Commonwealth.

Part two of his amazing, simple yet complicated plan was plummeting fast too. He’d ‘accidentally’ bumped into her over thirty days ago and (to repeat himself) she was _still_ running around the Commonwealth, clearly helping everyone who asked. She was like the human version of Valentine, except Nick was a little more discreet than her.

He was about to judge her for that…until he remembered why she wasn’t so discreet. But it was okay, she’d never know it was him. _When_ she got her ass to the Old Church. He still wasn’t quite ready to go after her himself, but he was close. Way closer than he was comfortable with.  

* * * *

_They do not love that do not show their love._

 

He wasn’t an idiot, she’d inadvertently taught him a few things over the past four months and he knew something was wrong when she suggested a day of doing nothing. She’d offered it to him twice now and each time he had the same thought.

_She’s up to something…_

They never stayed in Sanctuary long, she went fucking weird when they were there and she had said so herself that she felt more at home in Goodneighbor, but she was drawn to the place. Even though she’d never admit it out loud. 

Maybe it was her fruitless attempt to find answers to her life, maybe it was because more and more people had arrived every time they came back and she was adamant that she’d talk to every one of them. And she did, she talked. To. Every. Single. One. Of them. He continuously zoned in and out of any conversation, not really a part of it, kind of just _sat_ in the middle of it but he knew she was absorbing every word said to her. Whether she wanted to or not. She never forgot a thing.

So he knew she remembered they needed to go to Diamond City, he also knew why they hadn’t gone yet. She didn’t exactly show it, but he knew. She was scared, and she wasn’t sure if she could relive the moment in front of him. She probably hadn’t said it out loud to herself yet, let alone anyone else. 

She had disappeared in Preston’s house for most of the morning, strictly business (because why the fuck would she go to him for anything else) and when she left, her shoulders were down and she was shuffling her feet. She wasn’t happy.

He made his way towards her, and she either felt him or heard him, because she looked towards him (he thinks because she always covered her face when other people were around) and as soon as she spotted him she straightened her back and practically skipped up to him.

“What’s-“

She didn’t let him finish his sentence before pressing a finger to his lips.

“We’ve got work to do.”

It was her voice, it was filled with such promise yet false hope, so he was disappointed when he was dragged towards the workbench instead of round the back of her old house. They’d done it against the walls of the house quite a few times, she ‘claimed’ it was the only thing that calmed her down when she was stuck in Sanctuary. He’s pretty sure it was bullshit but he honestly didn’t mind.

She slammed a leather chest plate down on the bench and he eyed her suspiciously.

“You don’t wear armour, why are you reinforcing it?”

_You’re a fine one to talk._

Underneath her sunglasses, she ran her eyes over his figure, he never seemed to wear anything other than his duffle coat and hat. She really needed to get her hands on it and wash it, before she never got the chance to.

She stared down at the armour, her hands resting on the edge of the bench. Her head dropped in defeat and she sighed. She lifted her head back up to look at him. 

“Preston and I went through the plan one last time. We’re ready.”

“Seriously? We’re going to Fort Independence, just like that,” he clicked his fingers.

“It’s time.”

A lump formed in her throat as she spoke and she didn’t take her eyes off MacCready the whole time, she knew what she wanted, needed, to do next and she was wracked with guilt and self-doubt.

Liberating Castle was the last step for the Minutemen, they’d have their old home back and, slowly but surely, they’d fix the Commonwealth. One mess at a time. There was nothing else she could do for them. It was time for her to continue her own mission. She’d finally got the chance to empty her pack and she looked down in curiosity at the holotape that fell onto the pile that was everything else. She remembered picking it up. She saw it right after she bumped into that drifter, and she only remembered him because she was sure he was the guy who earned himself a syringe of Jet from Hancock...and there was something about his voice. She originally picked it up to give it back to him because it hadn’t come from her but by the time it was in her hand, he was gone and she never saw him again. There were new faces every time she was in Goodneighbor, it was hard to keep track of who was who.

She was more than a little apprehensive about bringing up the Railroad with MacCready. She knew how he felt about the organisation, the first time she mentioned it he made no apologies for the curses that left his mouth. He’d referred to the idea of saving synths as ‘a waste of time’, but that’s not why she wanted to go to them. They were a well-known enemy of the Institute, she knew that much and if anyone had a clue about what happened to Shaun, the Railroad was her best bet. She just had to choose the right moment to bring it up with MacCready.

Dinner wasn’t the right moment, surrounded by so many people, each of them begging for her attention. She needed to be alone with him. There were lots of new people, Jeremy and Marie, their son and daughter; Dominic and August. MacCready had whispered in her ear that their son was about the same age as Duncan and she could hear the excitement in his voice. George and his wife Natasha were young, just under thirty years old, and she knew from the bump in Natasha’s clothing that they were expecting their first child. They’d heard about Sanctuary over the radio and they actually asked if it was okay they were there; of course it was. There were two more ghouls, Marcus and Peter, they’d made the trip all the way up from Goodneighbor; deciding that anything was better than sleeping out in the cold. She agreed and secretly suspected that Hancock had told them about Sanctuary, he was almost as proud of her as Daisy was.

They were sat around the campfire, Bekha, a young drifter who appeared weeks ago, and Peter on the other side of them, they both yawned and she took it as her cue to put her plan into action. They stood up, hugged and said their goodnights and she all but dragged MacCready back to the house. She knew it was going to be their last night together and she wanted him to remember it for the rest of his life, she wanted to remember it too - in case she never saw him again. She wanted the memory to reflect upon when she was alone, sleeping under the stars. Or at least trying to sleep, she hadn’t been on her own since she met him, it was going to take some getting used to.

He was already confused that they’d walked _inside_ the house, they never stayed in this particular house and he’d only been in it once. He’d never seen her go inside though. Then he jumped when she slammed the door.

“Wha-“ Whatever question was going to leave his lips halted as soon as he looked at her.

One hand was removing her sunglasses, the other was tearing off her bandana and she threw them both onto the couch. She bit her lip as she stepped slowly towards him, he shuffled uncomfortably for a moment and a breath hitched in his throat when she less than an arms-length away from him. There was that look in her eyes, the one he knew all too well. Either of them could die tomorrow. She slid her hands under the opening of his coat, ran her fingers over his shoulders and pushed the coat off his body. It fell to the floor with a satisfying clunk. She pressed her lips lightly to the side of his mouth and her hands fell over his chest as she went down onto her knees.

She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and she didn’t take her eyes off him as her hands fumbled with the zipper of his trousers. She didn’t give him a second to think before she pulled his trousers down, along with his underwear, and he was already half-stood to attention. She winked before wrapping her lips around him and engulfing him in her mouth. She moved back and forth against him and she could feel his length growing in her mouth

“Holy-“ a groan left his mouth when her nose touched his groin.

His hand fell on the back of her head and she felt him twist his fingers in her hair, he pulled at her mane but not too hard and then he was pushing her down on his shaft. She moaned and he shivered when the vibrations travelled through him. No matter how deep he went, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and enjoy the moment, she didn’t. She didn’t stop looking up at him and he didn’t stop looking down at her.

He bit his lip when she pulled away, grazing her teeth along his length and she flicked her tongue repeatedly against his head. A small bead of precum appeared and she eagerly lapped it up. She wanted to remember the taste of him, the feel of him wrapped around her mouth. She wanted to remember everything. The hand on the back of her head pushed her back down against him and he began furiously fucking her mouth. She coughed slightly when he unforgivingly hit the back of her throat but his pace didn’t stop, she didn’t want him to stop.

They’d done this so many times she knew what signs to look for, his legs went taut, his thighs hardened under her hands; he was close. When the sensation became too much, he pulled her to her feet by her hair. She winced at the pain but there was no stopping the smile on her face. He looked almost feral when he watched her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and before she could catch her breath, he was pulling down her trousers and underwear. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her out of the puddle of clothing that surround her feet. He pushed the hair out of her face and crashed his mouth against hers as he slammed her into the wall.

She gasped, her hands touching every piece of flesh she could find. MacCready’s hands cupped her ass and he lifted her into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her back against the wall.

Without saying a word he carried her gently into the bedroom.

“I…I was thinkING…” her voice faltered as she moved her hips. “When we’re done, you know ahhh.” Her fingers raked down his chest, leaving small speckles of blood in their wake, “liberating…mmm…Castle….”

“Uhh huh.” His fingers dug into her skin as she moved faster on top of him, he bent his knees to bring her into the air slightly.

Her mouth hung open, her eyes fluttered closed and she could barely control her breathing.

“I, I…I would uhhh, find the Railroad.” She sucked in her lip between her teeth and bit down hard when he hit inside her perfectly.

“So, we’re…ahh…splittin’…up for ahh while then?”

“What?” She stopped dead on top of him, locking him in place.

“I have no interest with the Railroad. I’ve got my own sh-stuff goin on, this is your thing.”

“Will…will you at least follow the Freedom Trail with me?”

That damn lip pout, he could never say no to it. It was particularly difficult when wearer of said lip pout was naked and had his dick inside her. He defied any man to resist. 

And she fucking knew it too.

“Will you move your hips if I say yes?” He pleaded.

“Maybe.” She teased him with one small rotation of her hips before stopping. He groaned in pleasure, then disappointment.

“Fine!” His nails dug into her flesh. “Yes, I will follow the Freedom Trail with you.” She rewarded him with another swivel of her hips.

“Will you join the Railroad with me?” She let out a breath of surprise when he lifted himself off the bed, grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped their positions.

“Don’t. Push. It” His lips swallowed the moan that left her when he thrusted into her again. Pushing himself as deep as he would go, keeping her body as close to his as possible.

The film of sweat that had appeared on both of them mixed together as her naked body pressed against his; her breasts pressed wonderfully against his chest. Usually when the two of them fucked she kept her top on, or at least her bra but not this time.

He’d been taking a firm grip of her hips, revelling in the way her ass looked squashed on top of his groin. He used his hands to lift her up and down and couldn’t help but watch his dick move in and out of her. There wasn’t anything better than watching that. She was close, that much he could tell, and she slammed down on top of him and erratically moved her hips. His mouth fell open when her hands reached around her sides and peeled the sweat-soaked tank top off her skin and threw it on the floor, and with one hand (one hand! He couldn’t believe it) she unhooked her bra, letting it join her top on the floor.

When she started panting on top of him, her back fell onto his chest and she was laid out on top of him in all her naked glory. His hands were drawn to her breasts as soon as he saw them and he couldn’t control it when he tweaked her nipples between his fingers. She almost deafened him when she screamed.

He helped guide her through her first orgasm, her walls tightened around his cock but he didn’t follow. He wasn’t done with her yet. If this was going to be his last night with her for an undetermined amount of time, he was going to make damn sure she remembered it. And he knew, by the way she was writhing underneath him, enjoying another orgasm, not giving two fucks about the thinness of the walls, she certainly would remember it.

It was probably a bad idea to tire themselves out before the long journey…Oh well, no going back now.

“I’m going to miss you,” Her hand cupped his cheek, her smile was nothing but loving.

_Best to get the sentimental bit of the way now, you know…considering._ She looked down at their current position.

“Hey, you’ll be back.” His smile was cocky, she would be. Eventually.

“I hope so.” There was a sense of worry in her voice.

_Worry is not allowed in a situation like this_.

He pumped a little faster, using a hand to push her closer to him, angling her a little more and his nickname left her mouth

_That’s better._

“Are you scared?” He whispered. He saw things in her that no one else did, having spent every day with her.

“Of the Railroad?” She chuckled. “Of liberating Castle? Nah, it should be a breeze.”

The chatter stopped when she pushed down against him, matching his movements and he held her close as she felt her core explode and she crumbled in his arms.

He pushed her limp body onto the bed and quickly came over her arse with a groan.

“Yeah…that’s not demeaning at all.” She was going to kill him for that.

“Sorry, but what the hell you expect?” He smiled as he wiped her clean. “Can’t say you’ll forget it any time soon.”

“Did you really think I’d go off and forget you? Really?” She flipped onto her back in surprise, staring up at the worry on MacCready’s face. “My best friend…I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

She was worried she’d never see him again, he was worried she’d forget him…Like that was ever going to happen. She meant what she said, she couldn’t forget him even if she wanted to, and she never wanted to forget him. The way his sweat covered body pressed against hers, the way his mouth felt as he peppered her neck with kisses. The image of their naked bodies pressed together was forever imprinted in her memory.

She outstretched her arms as a silent invitation. He smiled before climbing back onto the bed. He lightly fell on top of her, bracing most of his weight in his forearms and he rested his head in the valley of her breasts.

“Besides, we’ve still got plans for Duncan.” She stroked her fingers through his hair and leant her cheek on his head. “Don’t think I forgot that.”

Hearing from Daisy that the serum had reached Duncan and he was showing improvement had put a smile of MacCready’s face, one of which she had never seen, on anyone. It was beyond happy. Her heart lifted just at the sight of it.

_Love._

“I’m in this for the long haul, are you?” Her face twitched with worry for less than a second before disappearing. “Or do I need to give you a hundred caps again?”

“Nah, we’re good.”

_Really good._ He rolled on to the mattress and wrapped his arms around her.

“Well, you know where I’ll be if you need me.”

“Wh…” She pushed away from him, her face overcome with confusion, “RJ, you can leave Sanctuary.”

“I know that but it’s time to face it, no matter how much you hate this place sometimes, you’re drawn to it.” He kissed her nose and traced his fingers up and down her spine. “You’ll end up here eventually.”

MacCready was wise for someone his age, then again, so was she. She knew how the evening was going to go, she’d already planned to talk about the Railroad, and okay yes, it was a little manipulative to wait until she was naked on top of him for the first time, but old habits die hard. She suspected that he wouldn’t come with her but it still hurt to hear it confirmed out loud. She had met him on her second day in the Commonwealth and she’d rarely left his side for the past one-hundred and-thirty-six days. It wasn’t going to be the same without him.

“I was drawn to Goodneighbor on my second day…who knows how my life could have gone if I went to Sanctuary first.”

“Are you telling me, you’d be laying here with Codsworth instead?”

“What? Eww, no.” She playfully tapped her fist against his chest. “But I mean, I probably would have travelled with him. I probably would have gone to Concord straight away, I mean the whole point was to find people. Who knows? I could be having with conversation with Preston, or Sturges, maybe both of them.”

She was probably joking but he wouldn’t put it past her to do it.

She pushed her face further into his chest, his scent resonating in every part of her. The soap smell was still there, though not as prominent, dirty and (seriously?) smoke clouded the cleanliness and she was grateful. He smelt like  _him_ now.

“You would have ended up in Goodneighbor eventually.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her.

“Hmm, I don’t know…Preston has never really trusted the place and Codsworth’s too…I don’t know…British. I can only imagine his reaction to Finn…I need to tinker with him again soon. He’s getting a little soft.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“Is that about me or you?” She pushed away from him to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You.” He tutted. “So, say you did make it into Goodneighbor. Then what?”

“Codsworth would love to meet Charlie, I can’t say the feeling would be mutual…and Preston would probably faint at the sight of Magnolia.”

The woman was incredible, in every aspect.

“And the drifters that recommended me?” He played with the necklace that hung around her neck. He always saw the chain but it normally disappeared between her breasts. He’d never seen the small trinket that hung off the end.

Shameless self-promotion. She loved it.

“I never said there was more than one.” She smiled as she wrapped her fingers around the hand playing with her necklace, drawing his fingers in between hers.

She looked down at the trinket that hung from her chain. She wasn’t used to anyone seeing it, no one sure as hell ever touched it. There was still a few walls she wasn’t ready to expose yet.

“I’d probably leave Preston, alone, at the bar, just to see if he’d stay and then I’d check it out for myself. Codsworth’s not one for stealth so my entrance would have been a bit more…Ta-da!” She threw her hands in the air, her fingers wriggling.

He laughed at the idea. The door barely moved when she actually entered the room, but yes, a Mr. Handy would certainly make an entrance.

“Would you still have hired me?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. Half-joking, half-worrying about her answer.

“Uhh, I think so.” She jested.

“You ‘think so’? Really?”

“I mean yes! The way you dealt with Winlock and Barnes, I remembering thinking ‘this kid is my kind of trouble’. You’re a little damaged, like me. Two sides of the same coin, remember?”

She constantly said this to him, he still didn’t quite get it but it seemed to put a smile on her face, that was enough.

She pulled away from her, rolling onto her side and he heard a hand rummage through the drawer next to her.

“Speaking of which, here.” She turned back around and placed a small copper disk in his hand.

“Uhh, thanks…?” He started down at it, not entirely sure what he was looking at.

“It’s a pre-war coin, I found two of them. One of them is yours, the other’s mine.”

His eyes studied the faint patterns on both sides of the disk, her analogy making a little more sense.

“Besides, you’re the one who refuses to visit the Railroad, if anything you’re splitting up with me.”

“You could always stop being stubborn and do the thing we both refuse to talk about but know we should talk about?” An all-too knowing raise in his eyebrow.

“If I can’t find answers on my own, I’ll do it.”

She was feeling guilty about the weeks, months, she’d wasted (okay wasted was a little harsh - spent, let’s go with spent) not looking for Shaun, the easy thing to do would be to go to Valentine’s office - she’d had spent hours having this argument with herself but she was too stubborn for her own good and she would find her own answers before asking for help. She was going to use the Railroad, they needed to find the Institute, so did she, if they were known for kidnapping there was nowhere better to be than in the Institute.

_Shaun has to be there._

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, it couldn’t have been that long, it was still dark and the sun was nowhere in sight along the horizon. She slid out of MacCready’s grip, threw on MacCready’s oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts and quietly left the bedroom. 

The door didn’t make a sound as she closed it behind her, she leant back against it and let out a silent sigh. Her hands fidgeted with each other and her eyes were fixated on the door on the wall opposite her. The door that was the entire reason she hadn’t stepped foot in the house since leaving it over two-hundred years ago. The door the voices kept telling her about.

Her hand hesitated on the handle, she expelled a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding, finally found her courage and gently, she opened the door.

It looked the same as it did the day it was made. The wallpaper, even after two hundred years of neglect, still had the faint patterns of teddy bears, the rocket ship covered rug still looked as pristine as it did when she first saw it and although the crib may not have faired as well as the rest of the room, it was in better shape than she thought it would be. 

Every inch of it reminded her of her failure. The universe usually worked in her favour, but it seemed to refuse to let her keep a hold of this particular kid. Maybe there was something bigger at play…

MacCready had seen inside, he’d admitted that much to her, but he’d avoided talking about it. She loved him for that. 

A small sob of sentiment left her at the thought.

She really did love him, MacCready was the first person she’d let into her heart, her head, for a long time. She’d been so used to him being there at the drop of a hat, she wasn’t sure she could do it without him. She wanted him by her side but he was right, this was her mission. She had to do it alone.

_Alone…_

She stepped back out of the room, too guilt-ridden to stay any longer and walked through the living room and out the front door. The cold air brushed against her face, pricked at her legs and weaved through her hair. She immediately regretted not putting on a hat, if there was even a slight chance someone saw her then the news would spread like wildfire and it was bad enough that MacCready mentioned it all the time.

Sanctuary was quiet at this time of night, turrets were working overtime along the borders and Sturges had rigged everyone’s electricity to one _huge_ generator that sat comfortably away from the houses so no one would be kept awake.  Between Sturges and Codsworth, Sanctuary was pretty self-sufficient and they’d do just fine without her. Hell, they’d been doing just fine without her already.

Her gaze was fixated on the night sky, her eyes scanning for the star she hardly had to look for. It never moved. She first noticed it when she was sixteen, two-thousand and nineteen years ago. It had never been confirmed but she was pretty sure it was a training exercise, the sort that only ‘elite’ soldiers went through. She’d been dropped in the middle of a desert, no information given, just one simple direction. Go to the nearest city. 

They had done it to see how much training she’d absorbed. Had she remembered the essential things she should carry on herself at all times? Had she learnt not to feel fear? Did she know how to survive? And, of course she did.

She was confused at first, they had pulled her out of bed after all, but a small voice in her head told her to look up. There was something nostalgically familiar about it but she’d learnt to crush sentiment like that. It shone in the sky like something from the bible, and so she followed it. 

She wasn’t a religious person, her work was never god orientated, but it seemed to work. She found the nearest city within three hours and her bosses were waiting for her. All of them smiling, or what they passed off as smiling. 

The cracked pavement was a cool welcome underneath her feet as she made her way down the path. Her eyes left the sky momentarily to look at the house wrapped around a tree. Sturges really had done an amazing job, she expected it to take longer - expected him to meet everyone else’s needs first - but he’d surpassed himself. Two more weeks he told her, then it would be ready.

But her treehouse was not where she was going, she was heading to the house next to it. The house MacCready didn’t think she knew about. Unbeknown to him she had already approached Sturges about the house and as soon as she told him she wanted MacCready to have it, Sturges told her he’d already asked about it. She instructed Sturges not to let MacCready inside until it was completely finished, added her own requests to how the house would be decorated and told him her plan for the empty second bedroom. The needs of Sanctuary as a whole was the most important thing, MacCready was the second. He deserved to have something good in his life. And Duncan needed a place he could call home.

She walked through the half decorated house and turned her attention to the utility room. She closed the door behind her, not sure why as it wasn’t like anyone would hear her, and stood in front of the old dryer. The machine had been stripped of it’s original components, it’s initial purpose no longer needed, and she’d bolted it shut. She grabbed the key off the shelf before kneeling on the floor in front of it.

She took another deep breath as the key slipped into the lock and exhaled when it clicked open. 

The sound of metal rained down as she opened the door and it’s contents fell onto the floor.

“Shit.” She exclaimed quietly, afraid any noise would wake someone up.

She tried in earnest to stop the caps from falling out, catching more than she could hold in her hands as they continued to pour out.

She’d taken note of every amount she’d put aside, no matter how small. Eighteen-thousand and fifty-two…

_Probably a little less now_. A few of them rolled under the dryer. She sighed in frustration as she scooped up the small pile that had formed in front of her. Maybe she should tell MacCready about this before she left…

She couldn’t, she didn’t want to. There was still a dozen unanswered questions revolving around their relationship and she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear his answers.

Would he really be here when she got back? Would she come back in the first place? Would he still fight for Duncan to come here without her here to push him? What would he do when he realised how well his son really was? Would he go back to the Capital? Would he leave her?

When all the caps were successfully secured back inside the dryer, she stood to her feet and placed the sealed letter on top of the dryer. His nickname was written on the front, marked with a kiss and a tear threatened to leave her eye as she was reminded their last journey together would be walking the Freedom Trail.

Two days, that was probably all the time they had left together. Liberating Castle would more than likely take up most of the day tomorrow and who knew what trouble they’d run to on the way there, let alone along the Freedom Trail. She’d only travelled it once before, back when the world wasn’t so tarnished and most people could walk the streets without worrying about death.

She walked back over to her old house and got back into bed. The heat from MacCready’s skin burnt against her as she tugged herself beside him. She turned on her side to look at him, even asleep he was beautiful. A youthful face, covered in lines that showed just how much he’d gone through in such a short about of time. Under closed lids were blue eyes that looked like the sky on a sunny day and her eyes dropped to his mouth, even asleep he had the mischievous smile she had come to love, the smile that said he had a sarcastic response to anything anyone said.

A hand went to cup his face and slowly, carefully, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

They were in this together, right up to the very end he was going to be by her side.

* * * *

“Get him inside!” She was commanding the three men. 

Originally, they’d been fighting out in the open but once that huge, _mother fucking,_ Queen Mirelurk appeared, she dove into the nearest hallway. Between stamping on the baby mirelurks that were trying to bite her ankle, she had managed to grab a bottle of vodka out of her pack. She ripped off a piece of her shirt, doused it in alcohol before putting it in the bottle and setting it on fire.

She’d stood, a little exposed, as she threw it at the creature’s belly. The mirelurk shrieked and she took a few shots at it whilst it was distracted. She was about to take another shot when her gun jammed. She really did need to take more care of her weapons. She wasn’t thinking when she stood, in the open, and began to fix her pistol. She wasn’t sure what had happened when she suddenly felt herself being thrown against the wall and MacCready’s screams pierced through her.

She followed as they carried an injured MacCready and placed him on the nearest bed. He winced and cursed from the pain.

“MacCready?” 

He ignored her voice, his body began to shake as he felt the poison seep into the wound on his side. 

“MacCready.” 

Nothing. 

“RJ!” She said loudly, firmly. Using his nickname for the first time for the whole world to hear.

_Yeah that definitely got his attention._

“Take your jacket off and lay down. Nod if you understand me.” 

She waited for his head to move up and down before standing to her feet and turning away from him.

“I need as much purified water as you can get your hands on. Preston, I’m going to need my pack. Everything I need is in there.”

For a moment it was just the two of them,

“You know, I didn’t expect you to injury yourself to get me to stay.” She was trying to joke.

“Thought you’d,” he coughed, “like the scar.”

She sat down on the chair next to his laying body, his breathing was deep, ragged from a dry throat. Whilst she waited for the purified water, she began to lift up his t-shirt to access the damage underneath. All her energy had gone into hiding the sadness in her voice, she couldn’t help the tears from falling and she knew MacCready could feel them when they splashed onto his bare skin.

All-in-all, considering what they’ve just been through, he wasn’t too badly hurt. Unfortunately, the one severe injury he did have was made worse when he _stupidly_ pushed her out of the way and the Queen Mirelurk spewed her venom over him. It burnt through his clothes pretty quickly and seeped it’s way into the graze he already had. Radioactive, poisonous… _green shit_ was infecting him, painfully and slowly.

He had been living in radioactive waste for his whole life, but she had a better tolerance for it than him. If MacCready wasn’t so scared of water maybe he’d be a little more resilient.

_Tell him. I bet that’ll go down well._

She dropped to her knees as soon as Preston handed over her pack, pulling out anything that was deemed useful. Rad-X? _Could have been useful._ Stimpacks? _Useful_. Bandages? _Useful_. Rad-Away? _Super useful_. Jet? For him? _Could be useful. For yourself?_ _Not so much._

She went back over to him, quickly ran one bottle of water over his wound whilst holding another to his mouth.

“Hold this.” She lifted the bag of RadAway into the air, it wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. She was General, someone was going to hold it. When the bag was taken out of her grip, she used one hand to bring attention to the view in his forearm whilst the other plunged the needle into his skin.

She went back to cleaning the wound, carefully removing any venom that was noticeable. She poured more water over his stomach and used a cloth to wipe him clean of blood. When she was satisfied that she couldn’t get it any cleaner, she inserted a stimpack directly into the wound on one side before doing the same with a second stimpack on the other side of the cut.

“Take these.” She spoke softly, leaning up to him. 

She put her hand around his neck and helped him swallow the two pills in her hand. It seemed pointless for him to take them now, for any other reason than piece of mind. For her, anyway.

“You’re going to be okay, RJ, but you’ll be off your feet for a while.”

“And you’re not sticking around, are you?” His voice was weak.

“I can’t.” It figuratively killed her to say it aloud. “There’s nothing more I can do for people right now. I need to do this.” 

_For myself._

“Do you need anything to help with the pain?”

“Some bourbon wouldn’t go amiss.”

“You got it.” She pulled her bandana down low enough to expose her mouth, and the trail of tears, and kissed his forehead. She sent a nameless Minuteman to find her a bottle. She’d learn their names eventually. 

She delicately wrapped the bandage around his waist, hesitating every time he winced when he lifted his back to help her.

“This is a perfect reason for you to come back, to check on me!” His voice was full of delight.

“For the millionth time, I don’t need a reason.” She smiled.

He rested comfortably on the bed and she ran her fingers through his hair. She got off the chair and laid behind MacCready, hugging his back against her chest. 

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, RJ.”

“Night, boss,” he yawned.

By the time the Minuteman returned with the requested bottle of whiskey, MacCready was fast asleep. Regretfully she took herself away from his sleeping form and got to her feet. She planted one last kiss on his temple, planted the bottle on the bedside table. A hand ghosted down the entire length of his body as she walked past him and out of the room.

She was nothing but professional as she walked through the courtyard, whistling for Dogmeat to follow her. She returned Preston’s salute, waved appreciatively at the other Minutemen and walked out of the gate. As soon as she was outside her feet propelled her forward, she ran all the way down the road and she didn’t stop until Castle was a safe distance behind her. She reached the edge of the bridge, her knees buckled underneath her and she fell to the ground, letting the tears run uncontrollably down her face. Last night had been the perfect way to say goodbye, they both accepted it and they knew where they stood with each other. She didn’t want to leave him in the state he was in and it took every ounce of self-control not to run back and stay with him. In the long run it was easier this way, for her to leave when he couldn’t follow. She was worried about him, of course she was, but he was in the safest hands possible, Preston wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Mostly because he was probably terrified of her reaction if he did. 

She picked herself up off the ground and took one step forward. For the first time since meeting MacCready, she was travelling the Commonwealth on her own, just Dogmeat and the voices in her head to keep her company. The only thing that kept her putting one foot in front of the other was hoping the Railroad would hold some answers for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was genuinely sad when I wrote this, my love for MacCready was the thing that brought me to fan fiction in the first place and the kid will always have a place in my heart. But 9 chapters and over four months of travelling together they have to say goodbye in order to continue the whole point of this story. Plus doing it whilst having sex is just kind of funny. 
> 
> MacCready has always hated everything to do with the Railroad in game and when you switch between him and Deacon as companions there’s a little bitchy cut scene. But I wanted it to be a mutual decision between the two of them, I didn’t want MacCready to think she was abandoning him. Because we are not abandoning him! He will be back. I promise!
> 
> Thanks for being here xx


	11. Famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Railroad HQ gets a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy on Deacon's POV because why the hell not?
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Famous - Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wIo7pFpiIc&list=RDQzw6A2WC5Qo&index=18))

  _God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another._

 

And another…and another…and maybe just one more to be on the safe side. Nothing major, didn’t get made up to look like a model or anything like that, just added the occasional scar now and then to throw people off. Maybe a mole or two.

He was bald, so he didn’t have a distinguishable haircut people might remember. Sure, he wore a hat or pompadour wig every now and then, but that was usually just for fun. He's kind of glad his hair decided to stop growing, ginger was really fucking rememberable and his sunglasses hid his eyebrows well enough. As for those pesky freckles that came with the hair? Well, they'd been dealt with decades ago. 

The idea was to look as average as possible. Average to the point of forgettable. It’s how he lived his life, how he worked; _functioned_. 

Sunglasses were key - a necessity - and never came off. There wasn’t a person alive who could get them off his face without being killed. Eyes are the window to the soul, and there was no way anyone was seeing the person he was hiding. Any of them.

There’d been a lot of different guys, way before he was Deacon. Deacon was new, still a baby compared to the others. He wasn't the first whilst he'd been with the Railroad, and he probably won't be the last, but Deacon seemed fitting after everything that happened.

Not that it stopped the others from wanting their say. But he learnt to drown them out after a while, it helped being out in the field. 

He, however, was not out in the field and hadn’t been for quite some time. The amount of time that might just drive a man like him crazy. Word had eventually reached HQ of a certain Vault Dweller but Dez was too stubborn for her own good. No agent was instructed to go out and do recon, though luckily he’d done _plenty_  of his own. Though, strange thing. He kept ‘accidentally’ forgetting to mention that to her. Dez's  punishment for being stubborn was that he kept things to himself, his punishment was being stuck in HQ, waiting for a certain Vault Dweller to ring the doorbell.

And one fateful night, when the planets aligned in the sky and the stars were out in spades, the universe was finally on his side. Giving him an angel, who kind of looked like…

“Tom?”

Deacon wasn’t sure what had woken him up, he was in the middle of dreaming about…something and he was reluctant to open his eyes, until he felt someone standing over him. Even in the darkness, he knew it was Tom, that helmet on his head clunked around because it was about two-sizes too big to sit comfortably, but the man never took it off. Even when he was asleep.

“Deacon!” his voice was an excited whisper.

The man was too wake considering the time, Deacon wasn’t even sure of the time but he knew, by how exhausted he felt, it was pretty damn early. Tom must have found the coffee again. He really was going to have to think of better places to hide it. 

The first thing he did was reach a hand up to check his sunglasses were still attached to him. They were. He needed to get out in the field, find himself some wonderglue and stick the fuckers to his face. It would certainly alleviate a lot of inner turmoil. 

“What’s up?” his voice instinctively falling into a whisper as he begrudgingly sat up.

“You know you wanted to know when the sensor from the Freedom Trail went off?” An excited squeak left Tom’s mouth before he threw a cautious eye over the room. “Well…”

He didn’t exactly _jump_ to his feet, he was way too exhausted (but _not_ old) to do that, he got up slowly, but, nonetheless, he got up.

“What’d ya see?” he tried to sound casual.

His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest. Were his silent prayers about to be answered?

Tom was bouncing on the balls of his feet, just like a kid at Christmas time. But Deacon wasn’t about to put all his eggs in one basket.It wasn’t unheard of for the sensors on the Freedom Trail to go off, a bloatfly could set the things off and Tom was known for getting too excited too easily.

“A girl.”

_Bless you God, Creator, Atom or whoever you are up there._

“Shall I wake up Dez?”

_Hell no._ It had been well over a month since he’d seen her and he wanted, _needed_ , to make sure it was her. Plus, after the way Dez had been acting, she didn’t _deserve_ to know…not until she needed to. This was going to take all of them, and it had been a hell of a long time since they’d done it. And it would be the first time they’d be doing it in this particular HQ.

“Let’s make sure she’s actually following the Trail first, shall we?”

He couldn’t quite see it, but he heard the sound of Tom’s helmet move on his head and Deacon knew he was nodding.

Say what you want about Tom, sure he was crazy to the point of certifiable and about one accident away from killing himself and/or everyone else, but the man's a frickin' genius. Deacon didn’t know a man alive who could do the things Tom could. Like hacking into Pre-War security cameras across the Commonwealth, sending nanobots to fix said cameras and then directing them all so they faced the Freedom Trail.

That way they could get a quick read on anyone seen following it, not that anyone ever followed it. Until now apparently.

He walked forward, quickly yet as casually as possible and dived towards the security terminal. The sensor outside the Old Corner Bookstore activated and Tom hacked into the old camera to make sure it wasn’t just super mutants…again.

Not this time, the super mutants were on the floor, lifeless, and he saw her just before she disappeared. Like _literally_ disappeared. Before reappearing two seconds later walking away from the camera. It was definitely her, he recognised the sunglasses and bandana, a breath stopped in his throat.

“Wake up Dez when she gets to Faneuil Hall.” He instructed.

“What are you gonna do, boss?”

“Gotta put on my game face.”

He swung out of the chair and disappeared into the darkness.

_Showtime._

Less than twenty minutes later, Tom was announcing she had reached Faneuil Hall, now he was pretty sure she was following the Trail and now was the time to wake up Dez. Unfortunately. Because it would have been nice to have a more intimate first meeting. There were a dozen questions in his head; including ones he’d never ask.

Questions no one would ever ask because discretion was real important in a place like the Railroad, they pretty much valued it above everything else. Plus, the others didn’t really know enough to form any, they had no idea this particular woman was the one they’d been hearing about. He’d seen her wearing a vault suit for all of twenty minutes and he’d never seen it again.

The stage was set, everyone was in position and he was in his usual place - in the shadows. In the crowd but not of it. He doubted anyone actually knew he was there, not even Dez. 

There was a communal intake of breath, tension seeping out of every one of them, when they heard the scrapping of metal against metal on the outside of the door. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the dial, if you get this far then you pretty much know what you’re going to find at the other end. Throw in the stone tablets, the fucking _sign_ at the beginning, there was only ever one word it was going to be. 

The lights finally sprang to life (they were more like oversized interrogation lights but they helped when it came to throwing off undesirables, not so helpful when it came to recruiting) and he had to stifle a laugh.

_Speaking of changing your face._

On camera she’d been wearing the same black jumpsuit he’d seen her wear since her first day in the Commonwealth. But on the ground below them, she stood in leather trousers, a matching jacket with a white tank top underneath, long red hair and a rope around her shoulder. She stood perfectly still, without disappearing, whilst the German Shepard circled her feet.

He was actually proud of her for dressing for the occasion. He didn’t know why, but it seemed to make her fit right in, down in the Old Church catacombs. She didn’t have her arms up surrender, or a gun in her hands. Though he saw the ones attached to her…very firm…small thighs.

He thanked his sunglasses and went back to watching everyone else. He just caught sight of Dez as she was taking a step forward. 

_Let the interrogation begin_.

The woman had several guns pointed at her face but seemed ridiculously laid back. She responded to every one of Dez’s questions with a thin layer of sarcasm, which went unnoticed by everyone else, whilst kneeling down and giving the rest of her attention to the dog at her feet.

Deacon had worked with her long enough now, he knew what signs to watch out for, what topics to avoid, what buttons to push. Dez’s shoulders were tensed, possible smoke leaving her nostrils as she breathed heavily. She was getting frustrated. 

Apparently this particular woman already knew what buttons to push. She’d probably done what he had on his first meeting with the Railroad, scan and get a quick read on everyone close. He hadn’t seen anything bother her, not radroaches, not ferals or super mutants, so a bunch of misfits pointing guns at her was hardly going to rattle the woman.

If she was the person he thought she was, then she would already know more about them than they would be comfortable with. His time was coming, his job was recon and he knew something fresh, something not even Travis had announced yet.

_Showtime_.

He saw the moment Dez jumped in surprise when he cleared his throat and took a step forward.

“Deacon, there you are.” 

He could be reading her wrong, but she actually looked relieved to see him.

“Tell me, who is this?”

There was so many ways he could answer that. Just a girl who decided to walk the Trail (duh); she crawled out of a vault; saved Nick Valentine…any one of them would suffice. But there was nothing better than something new.

“Jeez, boss, turn on a radio every now and then,” he chortled. “This here is the General of the Minutemen.”

It definitely rattled her, she stopped playing with the dog immediately and stood to look at him, or at least face him. He watched her hand brush against her gun, watched the moment her brain told her it wasn’t a good idea and her hand went back to her side. He could only imagine the look on her face.

There was no ignoring the rush that surged through him and it took a lot of effort not to let it show.

The Minutemen had been doing a lot for the Commonwealth, under her guidance, apparently, so he knew the organisation would never get too big for its britches. She was no small man with big power. She was an honest to God saviour and he was silently hoping she could do for the Railroad what she’d already done for the Minutemen.

“Single handily brought the organisation back from the dead,” he was desperate not to sound proud. “In fact, she’s just liberated their old turf.”

_Bam_. He saw it. She may have a bandana wrapped around her face but he saw it move - her mouth had uncontrollably fallen open in shock. She’d probably…what? Only done it less than twelve hours ago. No one outside of the Minutemen should know.

He was giving her just a little taste of what she could expect of him. To be frank, it was to draw her in. Hint that he knew things about her so she’d feel the urge to stay to find out just how much he knew and then he’d tell her nothing. Because that was the game they were going to play, whether she was a willing participant or not.

Plus, it helped let Dez know she wasn’t dealing with an ordinary civilian who would play by the rules. She was dealing with a _General_ and that was a pretty awesome title for anyone to have. It immediately told the rest of them that she deserved their respect.

They must have read his mind because, one by one, they lowered their weapons

“So she’s good?”

That would be underselling it. There wasn’t a word to describe the woman in front of them. Who was indeed in front of them and yet they were speaking as though she wasn’t just a few feet away. As if she couldn’t hear every word.

“Trust me, boss, she’s definitely someone we want on our side.”

Possibly the biggest understatement in the Commonwealth to date.

“Well, Deacon seems to think you’re worth something and he’s never steered me wrong.” She shot him an appreciative smile, hardly the time to show emotion but he admired the gesture all the same.

He was full of shit, no one knew that better than Dez, but she respected his opinion regardless. And she wonders why he keeps telling people he's the one in charge. 

“There’s only one question left to ask, the only question that really matters.” Her face went deadly serious. “Would you risk your life for your fellow man? Even if that man…”

_There she goes with the dramatic pause_.

“…was a synth?”

The lowered weapons rose slightly and the whole room hushed even more so as they all waited for her answer. Her demeanour didn’t change, her hand was still near her gun but she cleared her throat and spoke with confidence.

“I risk my life to protect people every day. It doesn’t make a difference to me whether they’re a synth or not. Just as long as they’re not trying to rip my head off.” He heard the faint chuckle underneath the fabric of her bandana.

He couldn’t help but smile. Her answer was perfect.

It seemed to satisfy Dez enough and then did the one thing he’d been hoping for. She sent her…to _him_. 

You know when you’ve seen someone from afar but when you see them up close all sense of magic and wonder disappears? Not with this woman. It was never even a possibility that crossed his mind. There was an aura around her, he felt it the second he stood close enough, the sort that could drag you in and consume you.

“Man, you’re timing is impeccable.” He breathed when he was finally stood, covered-face to covered-face, with her.

_Even if you should have been here months ago._

Her hair was the same style it was on her first day, just dyed red and he knew it was a wig, even though it didn’t look like one, because she’d tucked her own hair into a hat at the first chance she had. If she was so willing to show it off then it wasn’t really hers.

Deacon was never really into that sort of thing, it wasn’t exactly on his list of turn-ons - he definitely preferred the jumpsuit - but there was no denying that leather looked real good on her.

_Concentrate_. 

He needed to focus; he needed her help.

The man known as Deacon was stood in front of her, wearing nothing but a white t-shirt, a dirty pair of jeans and black sunglasses. She found herself torn, between wanting to look at him and wanting to look somewhere else because he was so dull looking. And the only reason she felt drawn to him was because he seemed so bloody familiar.

They’d met before, or at least seen each other before, that much she could tell. She usually felt it in her blood when she was meeting people for the first time, she’d learnt to absorb her surroundings and so there was usually a red flag every time someone or something new intruded. 

But this flag was white instead of red. A distant sense of familiarity ran through her just standing in front of him. And he knew about her position in the Minutemen, not many people knew it was her underneath that General’s hat and coat and she certainly didn’t have red hair.

And, sorry, but how the double-fuck did he know she’d _literally_ just liberated Castle?

He obviously did recon for the organisation. They must have known she was coming. Or at least he did because he seemed a hell of a lot less surprised than the rest of them.

Bald, no distinguishing marks that she could see. A t-shirt about two sizes too big for him, she could see the shadow of muscles hiding underneath the thin fabric and the sunglasses on his face confirmed every other conclusion she’d already reached. The entire point of him was to be forgettable, to be in the crowd but not of it, to get in and get out before anyone paid him much attention.

Evidently, they were in the same line of work.

“There’s a job, too big for me to handle on my own but between us? I reckon we could do it.”

He seemed to be confident in her abilities, without actually knowing her. The man in front of her was a complete stranger and yet seemed quite sure that she had the skills to help him. Maybe she hadn’t seen him, but he’d _definitely_ seen her.

She didn’t respond, she let him continue to ramble as she tried to get more of a read on him.

She listened to him explain, briefly, what caused the organisation to hide in the catacombs of a decrepit church; they left their old HQ when the Institute tracked them down, they’d lost people and more importantly, they lost a valuable piece of equipment.

It wasn’t exactly the reason she came all this way, leaving her best friend behind, but he seemed pretty desperate (though he was trying to hide it) and agreeing to help straightaway was a sure fire way to get in their good books. Not that she really needed to, but it wasn’t like they were going to introduce her into their fild after only meeting once.

No one’s _that_ desperate.

Except Deacon, he was desperate for a lot of reasons. Adrenaline causing his body to betray itself, wanting to finally return Carrington’s prototype and get the ball rolling. And he literally could not wait to go out in the field with this particular woman, and actually get the chance to follow her when she actually knew he was there.

“I’d consider it a personal favour if you didn’t sell us out to the Institute.”

She could see why he felt the need to say it, they were letting a stranger into their inner circle probably for the first time in years and the Institute seemed to be their number one enemy. Still, it was quite shocking to hear the words. The thought hadn’t exactly occurred to her. She just needed their help.

And how was she supposed to ‘sell them out’ exactly?

She knew nothing about the man in front of her and that was something she needed to rectify and quickly.

“Meet you there? Why don’t we just travel together?” she suggested. She needed the opportunity to know something about him, especially if she was going to stay with the Railroad - for now at least.

“Sorry, doll, I risk you knowing about all my nifty little shortcuts.” He turned away from her and left.

She stood still, a little dumbfounded. She wasn’t used to people saying no to her.

_What the hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading xx


	12. Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and his new protege go to clear out the Switchboard. And almost nothing goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Holiday - Green Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1OqtIqzScI))

_The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch_

 

She was annoyed...in fact she was more than annoyed. She was downright livid. Deacon seemed so desperate to rope her into helping him and yet, he practically ran away from her the first chance he got. It was lucky she knew where she was going, because ‘ _beneath the underpass_ ’ was quite possibly the worst directional instruction ever. 

He must have known she was familiar with the world, happy to let her find her own way but she wanted to travel _with_ him, mostly because she needed to find out something about him. _Anything_. Because, maybe then, she’d remember why the hell he looked familiar. Plus - and she'd never admit it out loud - she didn’t want to travel on her own.

It wasn’t like she’d forgotten how dangerous the world was, but travelling with her best friend had been like wearing rose-tinted glasses. But now she was on her own, the metaphorical glasses had been ripped off her face and the dark, grey, ruined city that once hummed with life stared back at her. Death and decay filled her lungs with every step she took.

At least she’d had the good sense to bring Dogmeat with her. It was obvious that Dogmeat had been itching to go out, he attacked with ferocity, alerted her to every upcoming threat and saved her life a few times.

The outfit was basic, nothing out of the ordinary (though quite hilarious if you were born in the twenty-first century) and it didn’t stick out like a General’s uniform, a bright blue vault suit or a jumpsuit that made her disappear when she stood still (which would have ruined her entrance a little). Sure, her sunglasses and bandana hadn’t changed since the day she put them on but there were plenty of people roaming the Commonwealth with a bandana around their face. Though most of them were probably raiders or Gunners so that was probably why people avoided her, at first anyway.

Her voice had always got her pretty far, which was why she was offended that Deacon still left without her. So, maybe that was why she took her time, even considered stopping off in Goodneighbor just to make him wait that little bit more.

Dogmeat was just happy to be out, no matter what pace they travelled.

She’d been in the Commonwealth long enough now to know what enemy she was about to face just by the smell in the air. The Old Church had been littered with ferals, she kept good on her promise and, somehow, her and Dogmeat managed to get through without alerting a single one. Though she suspected the time of day was playing its part.

The streets were under the control of raiders, Gunners and super mutants, though they didn’t exactly collaborate peacefully on territories. The outskirts of the city belonged to the mutated insects and ferals that lived there and, although a lot of the grass and trees were dead, they were still useful when trying to outmanoeuvre something she was too tired to kill.

The world was definitely easier with MacCready in it and, in the back of her head, she allowed herself to think about him, hope he was okay and pray he got back to Sanctuary soon. She couldn’t let herself think about him all the time, she needed to concentrate on the Railroad and what they could do to help her. _After_ she helped them.

She had to admit the sudden light in her eye, and being surrounded at gun point was a nice touch, but it was a situation she been accustomed to and she almost expected it when going through a mysterious door that opened with the use of a cipher. And the light definitely would have thrown her off if she hadn’t been wearing sunglasses.

Still the best investment she ever made.

There were five of them, two females and three males. Evidently, a fourth male was lurking in the shadows. The woman who spoke to her first was clearly the leader, judging from the authoritativeness of her voice when she begun questioning her. Still, as far as interrogations went, it was rather tame.

Whilst everyone else had opted for pistols, the second female had a minigun pointed at her, heavy armour covering every inch of her. She was a ‘heavy,' what the military would have referred to as a ‘front liner’.

She wasn’t in the least surprised that there was a doctor, given the nature of the organisation. She suspected that most of the people in front of her had rarely stepped foot in the Commonwealth, only doing so when they absolutely had to.

It was obvious they needed help even before Deacon had confirmed it.

She was less than five hundred yards away from their meeting point and she could see him in the distance, waiting for her. She could respect him, a little, for that, after all, by all rights, she should have got there over an hour ago.

She crouched lower to the ground, ultimately deciding that making him wait wasn’t punishment enough.

He didn’t exactly rush to their meeting place, he’d taken his time, but she was taking longer. She had him waiting beneath the overpass for hours but he didn’t move. Even when he felt the need to run behind the nearest bush and relieve himself, knowing his luck, she would choose that exact moment to walk past and she’d probably keep going when she realised he wasn’t there.

So, he damn near pissed himself when she came up behind him and put a knife to his throat.

“Hey, it’s me!” he quickly protested before she sliced through his jugular.

“I’m sorry,  I didn’t recognise you.” 

She apologised, sure, but Deacon could tell by the sound her voice that she wasn’t sorry at all and she definitely knew it was him underneath all that garb. Who else was it going to be? Just stood beneath the overpass, in the _exact place_ he said he’d meet her.

By the time he straightened himself up and turned around, she’d changed too. She was out of her leathers and back in the jumpsuit he recognised all too well. No wonder he didn’t see her coming. The red wig was gone, replaced with her fedora, her real hair probably tucked underneath.

She was talented, that much he knew already. The dog at her heels was pretty well behaved too. He was genuinely surprised it was just the two of them when she entered HQ, because as far as he was aware she was still travelling with MacCready. But the ex-Gunner was nowhere in sight, even now. Maybe he’d finally stabbed her in the back and shown her his true colours. That might have been what sparked her sudden need to find the Railroad in the first place. Though he somewhat doubted it, he’d witnessed first hand her travelling on her own and he knew she was perfectly capable of handling herself.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that she was finally with them.

_With you, you mean._

_Shut. Up._

“Don’t get too close.” She had warned when he bent down to pet the dog for the first time. The mutt seemed nice enough,

“Dogs love me.” 

“Yeah, but the right phrase in German and he’ll tear your face off.” She wasn’t laughing, nothing in her body indicated that she was joking, so Deacon did not attempt to touch it again.

“So, what do I call you?” He asked, changing the conversation but not taking his eyes off the dog at her feet.

“Whatever you want.” She shrugged. “Most people do.”

She didn’t say much after that, anything actually. So it had been left to him to fill the air with mindless chit chat and he thinks she even chuckled a few times, silently, because she sure as hell never laughed out loud. And he was giving her some of his best stuff! The woman was going to be harder to crack than a double-locked safe.

They walked up the old, broken down highway. He knew they’d meet a little resistance, ferals were known for sleeping under burnt out cars and he stayed a few steps behind, just to see how she’d handle herself. Of course he’d seen her fight before, but it had been a few months, maybe she’d gotten rusty over time.

She definitely wasn’t rusty but she was a little different. She didn’t attack them first, they practically had to be gnawing at her ankles before she let off a single shot but she killed every single one of them without so much as a scratch on her. He could definitely tolerate a woman like that if she chose to stick around. And he was really hoping she was going to.

When Ricky, the tourist, came into view, he let her take point. Most new kids shook in panic when he let them lead, not her, she seemed to prefer it.

“Mine’s in the shop.” She recited so perfectly when Ricky asked her if she had a geiger counter.

He had ended up giving a rough summary of what was going to happen, he would have gone into more detail but two ferals decided to attack from nowhere and his focus was shifted.

_Girl’s got a good memory._

It was what Deacon had feared, and expected - the Switchboard was crawling with gen. ones.

_Brilliant…_ And it was just the two of them.

But he’d seen her in University Point, she’d made quick work of the ones there. And he could openly help her this time.

_Okay, yeah. We can…probably…do this._

They had two options, go through the front door and get killed out in the open or go around the back, and get killed in the escape tunnels. Personally, he knew which option he would have preferred but this was about her. It was the perfect opportunity to watch her up close and personal and this time she knew he was there!

“How about both?”

She suggested they clear the front first, before doubling back and going through the escape tunnel.

_So there’s no nasty surprises when we go out the front door._ He _loved_ her answer.

Between the two of them, and their expert skills, they cleared the front pretty quickly. She was popping off shots like there was no tomorrow, he barely had time to break a sweat before she’d killed every single one of them. When he was confident that the front way was clear, they turned back around and headed for the escape tunnel.

She moved carefully, silently, with deadly precision. During the quiet, peaceful moments, he explained in more detail what the Switchboard once was to the Railroad. Before the Institute found them. It was hard for him to talk about, a little therapeutic too. Most people got eased in to the Railroad, not this woman, she had come to them when they needed her most. She was a goddamn guardian angel. That was probably why he was drowning her in their past. 

She barely got shot at when they were making their way through the lower level, which was more than could be said for him. These synths were extra tough and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. But she blended into the background so well that even he lost sight of her a few times. She stopped him just before they turned the corner and she took something out of her pack.

_Is that…a bathroom mirror?_ _Seriously, who the hell is this woman?_

She placed it just around the corner and positioned it repeatedly to scan the hallway. He could hear her muttering numbers to herself. It was amazing she could see anything with those sunglasses.

_Oh, like you’re in a place to judge._

_Not now._

He got used to the voices in his head, they’d been there for decades, they sort of blended into the background after a while but he didn’t need them whilst out on a mission, he was having a hard enough time concentrating on the task at hand already.

“Five.” She whispered.

_Not to mention the laser wire five feet away from us, the fragmentation mine about six feet after that. Oh and the oil spill in the centre._

He should know, he was the one that had put them there, but by now the Institute synths had probably reprogrammed them all not to go off.

_Bloody waste of talent._

Strolling through the hallway wasn’t an option, they could double back and take the elevator…though the Institute had shut off all power connected to them. They could always shimmy up the wall…

Speaking of shimmying…she stuttered into view once more as she turned to the large pipe on the wall and before Deacon could open his mouth she was climbing up it. Like a freaking monkey.

_What the fuck’s a monkey?_

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?” he asked in the quietest voice he could manage.

Her silence spoke volumes, though come to think of it, that was probably her intention.

He couldn’t shout at her, couldn’t pull her down from the blasted ceiling, couldn’t do anything that might attract the attention of the synths roaming the hallway. The only thing he could do was crouch and watch as she crawled along the ceiling, right into the line of fire.

The black of her jumpsuit camouflaged her enough in the shadows, and so far her plan had come together well. Until now. The shadow and the pipe were running out, about half the distance she had expected them to and she was running out of room. Running out of ideas. Her legs hung on to the pipe, one hand was whitening over the pipe, the other - too afraid to move. She pushed herself even tighter against the pipe, wrapping her arm completely around it and the other grabbed for the pistol on her right thigh. There was a slick of oil on the ground and if she hugged the pipe enough…It was worth a shot.

The formation of the synths was easy to predict, there was a two second gap before none of them were facing towards her position and that was the two seconds she had to wait for.

_One._ Behind her back, she pointed her gun at the ground.

_Two_. She pulled the trigger with one hand and hugged the pipe close to her chest with the other.

The recoil hit in her back shocked her enough to drop Fire into the growing inferno and she felt the warmth through the back of her jumpsuit, the burning heat from her sniper rifle. The synths barely made a noise as they melted underneath her. The fire didn’t last too long and she was about to relax off the pipe when a fragmentation mine went off and she felt something hit her in the head, it hurt but she didn’t feel too bad, still riding the high she was denying herself.

_I wish RJ was here._

She’d take him right in the corridor, not giving a crap about anything or anyone around her. Better than any damn chem in the Commonwealth.

She dropped to the ground with grace, okay the landing was a little shaky, but still; graceful.

_Seven out of ten._

She stared down at the bubbling mess that had once been her  _beautiful,_ exploding-rounds, 10mm pistol and actually felt sentiment over losing it. She'd had it since she was sixteen, it was part of a pair, and it survived two centuries just to be reunited with her again. No other gun would live up to it.

She wouldn’t say Deacon came rushing over to her, but she was sure she saw a flash of concern on his face before it disappeared under his sunglasses. It was only then that she realised he’d changed clothes…is that what he’d been doing whilst she risked her life? Changing his goddamn costume. He really did look so familiar, but she couldn’t for the life of her place where from. She would have to ask him one day.

After that little snag, things were straight forward from there. She was sensible, slow and calculated - like how she was trained to be. She suspected Deacon was lying when he said he couldn’t unlock the terminal, he was an agent of the organisation that worked there, he must have had a passcode of some sort but apparently not even he was that ‘high up’ in the Railroad to know how to get into Carrington’s office, so she indulged him and unlocked it, easily, herself.

“I…I can’t accept that.” She had _actually_ said when he passed her the gun.

Sure, with Tommy’s corpse still on the floor in front of them, he could have chosen a better moment to take it and try and give it to her. It belonged to the Railroad and she was a part of the organisation before she even walked into the Old Church, no one was more deserving of a weapon.

“Well, I noticed your own gun got a little melted when there was that _mysterious_ fire so you need a new one, right?”

She took it with such caution, as if the thing was going to explode when she touched it. Tommy Whisper…she was just like him, fierce, a little young but still good. She seemed fit enough to carry on his legacy. She’d agreed to help him, not really needing to know the details, just wanted to help. It was kind of sweet.

_She’s going to tear you all to pieces._

He still had no real idea as to why she was here; why now? There had to be a catch. Maybe the Institute found her and replaced her with a synth…They’d probably been monitoring his movements and had been brought to her attention. It was his fault, she was definitely going to have to stay with the Railroad now, it was the only way to save her from herself.

_Psssycho_

The prototype didn’t look like much, they never did. Primarily because she didn’t know what the hell it was for, but she was in no position to ask, and Deacon, for the first time since this whole thing started, wasn’t saying a word. It was a little unsettling. A man who recited Shakespeare when he was fighting, was completely silent as they stepped out the door.

Evidently, there had been a few synths hiding from them the first time round and gun fire started the moment they reached the top of the stairs. Another Shakespeare quote left his mouth immediately as he lifted his rifle and began taking shots.

She put the prototype carefully inside her pack and put it just behind the door for safe keeping, and was suddenly glad that she had accepted the pistol from Deacon. Most guns in the Commonwealth had probably been pried off the dead but it was a little different when someone did it in front of you. She felt a little tired…probably from the lack of sleep. She hadn’t slept properly since her and MacCready left Sanctuary together. 

It didn’t take long to eliminate the few remaining enemies, Deacon wasn’t quite as skilled as MacCready but he could certainly hold his own. He brushed himself off unnecessarily and announced he was going back to HQ.

“Wait, you drag me all the way here, shouldn’t you at least escort a girl back?”

“I told you before, shortcuts and all that jazz!” He joked before scuttling away and disappearing from view.

She looked down at Dogmeat in disbelief and then up at the empty path.

_What the fuck?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying yourself XD


	13. Boulevard of Broken Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With an injury to the head, a little memory loss is expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Greenday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Soa3gO7tL-c) \- because everyone knows this song directly follows Holiday and I couldn't resist)
> 
> I go quite deep into the FSS/Hancock dynamic in this (and more in the next).

_Out of the jaws of death_

 

_Something’s wrong._

_It was dark, cold. She was on her back, the surface beneath her hard, familiar. The air heavy around her. She tried to take a breath._

_No, not air. Something thicker, something like…_

_Light shone around her, as if she’d had her eyes closed the whole time. She was laying at the bottom of a crimson river, too thick to be water and she knew what it was. The blood of her enemies. Her victims._

_If it hadn’t already been impossible to breath, it certainly was now. Thick, metallic liquid flowed down her throat and filled her lungs. She had to get out._

_She could move her head just fine - left to right, up and down - the rest of her was another story. She tried her arms first, starting with her left and ending with her right. Her fingers would move, but nothing else. The same went for her feet. Everything above her wrists and ankles was locked in place, like she’d been shackled to the ground. She fought and thrashed, desperate to break herself free._

_“Nora…”_

_That voice. The voice that haunted her, the voice that dictated her life for two years. She stopped dead at the sound of it. She looked up through inches of blood, only just being able to see him through the clear screen the ripples gave her. Not that she needed to see him to know it was him._

_“I loved you.” His voice was soft, filled with pain. In the two years she’d known him, she’d never heard him sound like that before. She hated herself for the pity she felt for him._

_No, you didn’t. She didn’t waste the energy saying it out loud, he would hear her, and he’d know she was right. Any energy she had went into closing her lungs to stop herself from drowning._

_“We introduced you into our family.”_

_She laid helpless as his arms penetrated the blood that encased her and pinned her already stuck body further down. His hands were cold, ice cold and they felt so real that, for a moment, she begun to think the last four months living in a post apocalyptic world had just been her brain protecting her from reality._

_He looked away from her, beyond her feet, and she followed his gaze - stopping to stare at the large bloodied exit wound on the back of his head. She realised (really fucking hoped) she was in the middle of a very realistic nightmare, though it didn’t make the prospect of drowning any less terrifying._

_The seemingly empty space around them filled quickly, dozens of cold frozen eyes started down at her. The people of Sanctuary Hills had finally come to punish her._

_“You shoulda played nice,” seethed Rosa before reaching down to take hold of her struggling legs._

_“How long were you going to keep this up?”_

_“You’re not even sorry we’re dead, are you?”_

_“Fucking whore.”_

_One at a time her neighbours spewed venom at her, their hands delving beneath the surface to cease her constant struggling. She could do nothing but watch them._

_Like some many stories she’d been told, her mind began to flash back through her life, desperate to remember something that could help her. Not that anything could help her even if she did remember. Her vengeful neighbours were going to make sure she died by their hand._

_She supposed she couldn’t really blame them. If Vault-Tec hadn’t got them first, she would have killed them before they stepped outside of the vault. And they were right, she wasn’t sorry they were dead. Everyone got what was coming to them eventually._

_Her throat was tight, her chest heavy and she could feel her heartbeat slowing, thumping, in her chest. She accepted her fate - this was just her getting what was coming to her - and she would welcome death like an old friend. A friend she’d been avoiding so far. She closed her eyes, ready to release her last breath._

_Two strong arms tucked themselves beneath her. The weight of her neighbours and the blood was gone and she felt herself being dragged to the surface._

She sat bolt upright as she took a much needed breath, filling her lungs with oxygen until they burned under her skin. She calmed down and took in her surroundings. She was in a bed, soft pillows and sheets surrounding her instead of blood. The light of the room she was in was soft, hues of orange glowed against the walls, illuminating the old dishevelled furniture. There was a safe, familiar, musky smell in the air - stale alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke.

Only then did she notice how much she was shaking, and she knew it wasn’t from adrenaline. Her lungs and heart thumped in her chest and she retched repeatedly when she felt the odd sensation of water in her lungs. She repeatedly reminded herself that it was just a dream.

She almost choked on air when the door in front of her flew open. Instinctively (pointlessly) she reached for a weapon, having not found one (and not even knowing where to start), she was lucky she knew the person stood in the doorway.

“Hancock’s gonna wanna know you’re wake.”

It must have been a real close call if even Fahrenheit sounded relieved that she was awake.

She didn’t see Fahrenheit leave the doorway, her mind too preoccupied with the discovery of her location. That was why the room felt so familiar, why she felt so safe, she was in the Old State House.

_I’m in Hancock’s bed._ She quickly checked herself over, as was the norm when she found herself in this situation. Her jumpsuit was gone, neatly folded on the dresser beside her and she was wearing an off-white t-shirt that was about three sizes too big for her. It could have been worse.

_At least I’m not naked._ She closed her eyes and fell back to rest her head down on the soft pillow, pulling the blankets around her as she did.

Not even a minute passed before she heard the office door swing open in the distance, the soft yet authoritative footsteps as they walked across the floor and, a second later, she heard him carefully open the door.

“Sunshine?”

In one word she could hear everything he felt. Worry, at both her safety and startling her. The relief that she was okay, and confusion as to how she got herself here in the first place.

She was right there with him. The last thing she remembered was standing outside of a Slocum Joe’s, Dogmeat circling her. She just didn’t remember why.

She made a noise of recognition, her eyes too heavy and relaxed to open. Her fingers danced along the mattress, reaching blindly for him. Hancock met her half way and curled his ruined fingers around hers.

At that moment Hancock was glad she had her eyes closed. That way she wouldn’t see the panic of his face, the expression he’d been wearing for the past three days. He also knew that the second she opened her eyes she’d know something was amiss and he wasn't sure how she’d react. Hell, he wasn't sure how to react and he’d had a few days to get used to it. He figured he’ll be fine, as long as she didn’t open her eyes.

Her hand crept out of his to tug at the sleeve of his coat, her thumb stroking across the soft fabric. He smiled, despite himself, when he saw the corners of her mouth twitch at what she felt with him. 

_At least it’s something positive._

She gasped and tightened her grip on his coat, and Hancock was quick to realise that she was holding on to him like a lifeline. Like she’d slip from reality if she let go for even a second. He leant forward, bringing her up to meet him, and dragged her into a hug. There was a hitch of surprise in her breath, a frightful tremor, but she quickly relaxed when she registered what'd happened.

He pulled away to look at her, thankful her eyes were still closed. He flinched when he felt her hands creep up his body, not stopping until both hands were cupping his cheeks. Her touch was soft, warm, and he couldn’t help but lean into it. Her fingers traced every feature of his ruined face, her thumbs run along his cheekbones, her fingers following the lines of his jaw and they both froze when she stopped at his mouth.

The dreaded inevitable happenned and she opened her eyes, or at least as much as she could. Three days laying unconscious, after major surgery, with vast amounts of chems flowing through her, Hancock was surprised she could even move. Her eyelids didn’t lift far but her eyes were bright enough to penetrate whatever gap she’d created and he felt them burn through his chest and seer her name onto his very soul. If she didn’t already have a place in his heart, she certainly would now. Though, that being said, he could hear the small voice in his head telling him to give her all of it, everything he’s got - to lay down his life for her.

She was still smiling, a big doughy smile that’s completely down to chems, and Hancock just hoped there was still enough in her system to stop her flying off the handle. Sunshine’s always been careful, it’s not been lost on him, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“John?” The smile quickly disappeared and was replaced with worry. He’d been quiet for too long, too lost in her.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he managed to choke out. This didn’t bode well for him, he’s usually smoother than this. And she knows it.

“What happened?” She blinked and her eyes fully opened, Hancock’s jaw dropped slightly. “How did I get here?”

Hancock cleared his throat and readjusted himself as one does when they’re nervous. “Was hoping you could tell me love. Walking into my town injured is becoming a habit and you’re starting to give a ghoul false hope when you collapse at his feet.”

He laughed nervously and it was not lost on her that he was avoiding looking at her. She avoided concentrating on the fact she couldn’t remember a thing, it would come to her eventually. Despite being the one in bed, recovering from injuries she couldn’t remember, she felt the overwhelming sense to comfort him. He didn’t look okay in the slightest.

Hancock’s black eyes normally scanned over every covered part of her body, she could see why people fell for him; it was difficult not to get lost in the abyss of his gaze and his voice hit all sorts of nerves. But her Mayor wasn’t his usual confident self as he sat on the edge of the bed. He was fumbling his hands in his lap and he could barely look at her.

“John?” she repeated. She took hold of his hand and moved her head to come face to face with him; a move he literally ran away from him. “What’s wrong?”

He bolted off the bed, searching around the room for, well… _anything_ and avoided her even more. 

_Wow, you must really look like shit._

“John?” The tone of her voice stopped him in his frantic search for nothing. Daisy was back, that demanding authoritativeness she could emulate, mixed with the pleas of zsomeone who didn’t get the life they deserved.

He sighed in defeat and grabbed the bottle of purified water from atop the dresser before he turned around.

“Here,” he held it out in her general direction, still refusing to lock eyes with her because he’s adamant his heart can’t take it again.

Confused, she took the bottle from his grasp and gladly downed half in one sip. The cold liquid travelled down her throat and spread across her chest, there was a sharp pain in her head but she ignored it, the refreshing feel of water alleviating anything else.

Hancock braved a look at her and saw it, watched the moment relief and gratitude washed over, seconds before her face dropped, the bottle hit the floor, and reality sunk in.

_That was too easy._ Frantically, in complete disregard for her lack of energy, she ran her hands over her face, starting at her hair, and confirmed her fears. No hat. No sunglasses. No bandana.

Nothing.

Hancock was looking at (or at least avoiding) her face in its entirety and she didn’t think she could feel worse.

_Oh shit._

Even when she was riding on a great high and talking to him, she was careful never to show him her entire face. And Hancock was a gentleman, surprisingly, and never asked her to take her sunglasses or bandana off. Sure, he was forever asking her to take off her pants, but he wouldn’t be Hancock if he didn’t do that. She hadn’t decided whether or not she was ever going to show Hancock her face, and if she did, it was definitely going to be on her terms.

This was not part of the plan.

“John, look at me." 

There was that demanding plea again and whilst he obliged, he took his sweet time about it. He started at her knees, travelling up her blanket covered legs - he ignored how good she looked  in one of his t-shirts - and, eventually, his eyes found hers.

“Surprise,” was the only thing she could say in an attempt to cut through the newly created tension. She offered him a soft smile, her eyes telling him she was just as uncomfortable as him about this little development. A hell of a lot more actually.

“Only took four mouth to get them off, now I just gotta work on everything else,” he joked.

“You mean you weren’t-“ She didn’t need to finish her sentence, the loving smile offered gave her the answer. She was wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, but Hancock had been nothing but a gentlemen. Never taking anything without permission. He respected her and she suspected she was the only woman he did. Besides Daisy, but that was more about fear than respect.

“Took ya to Amari, she kicked me out of the room. Told me to bring you some clothes and then leave her to work,” he rasped. “She found a nice bit of shrapnel lodged in your head, Sunshine.” He leant towards the dresser and picked up a small container, a piece of metal rattling around inside.

He passed it to her and she began to spin the container in her hands, her eyes fixated on the small piece of shrapnel sat inside. It was so tiny, so insignificant, as if it wouldn’t cause a lot of damage. She instantly made the decision to keep it.

“Sunshine,” he hesitated. “D-did you know…I mean, your hair…” She’d never seen him look so flustered.

She placed a finger over his ruined mouth, shushing him. “I know. How many other people have seen it?” she removed her finger so he could answer.

“Just me and Amari, wouldn’t let anyone else in the room.”

“Is that why there are candles all over the place?” she asked, gesturing around the room. He nodded.

“Figured you don’t want people seein’ it, you never want people to see _anything_.”

“You’re currently looking at my whole face,” she pointed out with an eyebrow raise.

“Yeah…and now I know why you don’t want people to see it."  He leant back to rest on his hands. “If I didn’t have so much respect for ya, you’d be face down in the pillow right now.”

That voice, those eyes and,  _man_ , those curves. A woman two hundred years out of time. _Girl, you are my kind of freak show._

Her cheeks went pink at the smirk on his face.

“Maybe you should respect me a little less then,” she winked and shot him a smile he felt go to his core.

Hancock placed his arms either side of her legs and leant forward to hover his face inches away from hers. He smirked at the hitch in her breath.

“Get better and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“The people of Goodneighbor really are going to start talking about me now, aren’t they?” She smiled, pushing him away.

“Well, it's good for my ego, and who cares what people say about ya? People are gonna think what they want anyway, might as well have some fun with ‘em.”

He moved the hand he was holding closer to his chest and rested his free hand over hers. He kissed her fingers, glad she was okay, and he looked up to smile at her. His smile was filled with nothing but affection. The Mayor of Goodneighbor, who didn’t stop flirting with her when her face was completely covered, looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world when she was bare in front of him. She let herself smile at him.

_Huh, maybe they got it wrong._

“How’s Daisy?” she coughed.

If she really did faint through the door then there was no way Daisy hadn’t been there and that woman fretted enough about her at the best of times.

Hancock laughed again.

“A little shaken up but she’ll live. For centuries.” He smiled, took the container away from her and took hold of her hands again.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Of all the things he imagined her doing, diving out of the bed was not one of them. He hadn’t even seen whores move that quickly. Her knees gave out before she even reached the door, Hancock was already behind her, keeping her upright.

“Woah, woah, woah, Sunshine.” She let him guide her back towards the bed, too exhausted and lightheaded to argue. “Where you gotta go in such a rush?”

She opened her mouth to answer but couldn’t.

“I-I can’t remember.”

She yawned and Hancock wrapped one of the blankets around her.

“Don’t worry, love, a bit of memory loss is to be expected when you get hit in the head. It’ll come to ya,” he added as he stroked a ruined hand through her hair.

She sighed contently.

A voice was telling her to look in her pack but sleep took hold before she had time to act.

News of Sunshine’s waking up spread through the streets of Goodneighbor quicker than the newest shipment of chems. To no one’s surprise, Daisy was the first one up, barging through the door and demanding she see for herself. Of course, Daisy had chosen to come up once Sunshine was asleep again so Hancock couldn’t allow it, the crazy old bat seethed at him, hit him a few times and then stormed back out. Amari was second, bitching that he should have informed her the second she was awake.

“How was she?” Amari was careful in her movements as she tried to examine the patient as thoroughly as possible without waking her.

“There’s a few holes in her memory, can’t remember how she got here, let alone how she got that thing in her head.”

“It’s to be expected with a head injury like that, we’re lucky the metal didn’t penetrate further. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it had."

“Thanks, Doc, that’s…that’s really comforting.”

“I’m sorry, did you want me to hold your hand and tell you she’s going to be fine? I shouldn't have to mollycoddle the Mayor of Goodneighbor, the fact is that she’s lucky to be alive. Are you positive she came through the door alone?”

“Personally I didn’t see her walk in, but about ten other people did, including Daisy.” And Daisy’s not gonna lie about something like that. “Why?”

“Because, to be frank, any distance further than three miles from here would have killed her if she’d been on her own.”

Hancock looked down at her.

“Don’t know what to tell you, Doc, no one saw anyone else walk through the gate. And it’s not like I’ve got guys posted _outside_ it.”

Upon reflection, maybe it was time he did.

“Well, she either had help or she’s not human.” stated Amari methodically before leaving the room.

Hancock’s eyes were glued to Sunshine’s sleeping form.

_No way she’s a synth._

And so for Hancock the only logical conclusion was that someone had helped her.

He just had to figure out who.

* * * *

Deacon didn’t walk _that_ far ahead, not really. There’s running away and then there’s ‘running away’. In this particular instance, Deacon had opted for the latter, to which he was glad. Initially, he’d been quite happy to let her find her own way back, that was her test after all, but she hadn’t looked right since she set the corridor on fire. Sure, she was still pretty on point, her shots still deadly but she was just a little _off._

She was okay, swayed a little, all the way to Cambridge, even her dog seemed worried about her, but Deacon didn’t intervene. Not until she was outside the Mass Fusion building and was quickly swarmed by Gunners. She was outnumbered, already weak on her knees and Deacon couldn’t help but back her up from the shadows. 

When they were all dead, she turned to find her hidden helper, tripped over her own feet and collapsed to the ground. He waited for her to get up and when she didn’t, he stepped in. 

Her dog growled when he approached, stopping in recognition. He whimpered in need.

“I know,” his hands were up in front of him in a passive gesture, praying he wasn't about to get his face chewed off. “I’m gonna help her.”

The dog allowed him to pick up her unconscious body, sticking to his heels when he began to walk with her in his arms. From this position, he could see her hat grow damp with blood, could feel it seep onto his skin and his feet moved a little faster. HQ was too far away, hell, everything was too far away but Goodneighbor was his best shot.

They were close to the gate when she came to.

“Why are you carrying me, Nate?” she asked against his neck, her eyelids fluttering but not opening.

“I’m taking you home.” He had no idea what Nate sounded like. If his suspicions of her being ‘Mum’ were correct, then it was only logical that Nate was ‘Sir’. Her husband. He’s not seen her wearing a wedding ring, then again, who knows what she’s got on underneath all those layers. 

“I’m perfectly capable of walking across the road on my own,” she didn’t sound like a woman talking to her husband. The distinction wasn’t obvious but Deacon could hear it, she almost sounded like she hated him.

She looked towards the gates of Goodneighbor, mistaking it for her front door. “At least let me _walk_ through the door.”

He obliged and set her down on her feet. She wobbled slightly and Deacon went to support her, a move from which she visibly flinched away. He let her walk ahead, she laid her palm against the door and turned back to look at him.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“In a minute.”

“Well, don’t be too long.” She didn’t mean it, she definitely hated whoever she thought she was talking to.

She walked through the door, her dog following loyally behind her and he watched her disappear.

Deacon expelled a huge breath, ran a hand over his bald head and nervously adjusted his sunglasses. He’s not exactly sure what just happened.

Then, like a super sledge to the face, it hit him.

_Shit._

The prototype was still in her pack. And there was no way he was going back to HQ without it, or without her. He could only imagine what Dez would say about it, and what Carrington would be bitching about.

He couldn’t risk her getting kicked out of the Railroad before even officially being a member. Not to mention, no one knew where they were, as far as the rest of them were concerned, he was off training her in the field. They just hadn’t realised he didn’t need to, from what he’d seen and heard, she’d had more training than all of them put together.

Maybe there was a dead drop nearby, because there was no way he was about to follow her through the gate. Maybe he’d check in a few hours, but not any time soon. People would start to talk and just because Goodneighbor wasn’t a place to ask questions, didn’t mean none were raised.

The last thing he needed was attention.

* * * *

She dreamt of him again that night. They’d come back to Sanctuary Hills to announce their engagement, and, despite her protests, he carried her bridal style to their home. Her dream was different to what happened in reality, Nathaniel had been possessive and demanding, he’d all but pushed her inside the house and attempted to devour her. In her dream he was softer, caring, and his soulless brown eyes were covered with sunglasses; at one point she could have sworn his hair disappeared, but she blinked and his white hair shone in the sunlight. He didn’t force her through the door, didn’t follow her inside, instead, he gave her a few moments of peace. Something he’d never given her before.

Her dream had felt so real that, once again, she was surprised to find herself in Hancock’s bed. This time he’d opted to stay with her, making sure she wasn’t disturbed.

“You’re alright, Sunshine,” he soothed her by running his fingers through her hair. 

He was usually too chemmed up to notice before but he’d been sober this time; Sunshine talked in her sleep. He heard bits and pieces, couldn’t get the whole story but she’d said enough to confirm his suspicions. Someone _had_ carried her to the gate and let her walk through on her own. Deep down, he was angry but thankful at the same time, he didn’t know if he wanted to punch the person responsible or buy them a drink.

He officially decided that two Watchman would be placed outside the gate. Hancock refused to let shit like this happen again. It was difficult to think of her as tough as nails, given how many times he’d seen her at the point of breaking.

She smiled at his voice before turning to face him, her eyes opened lazily and her smile widened when she recognised the ghoul next to her.

“Good morning,” she murmurred.

“It’s six in the evening but, yeah, whatever.”

“You know what I mean," she lazily flung a hand to hit him. "Don’t be an ass.” 

“So, anything come back to ya yet?”

“Nothing useful,” she moaned. “Just memories of a man I’d sooner forget.”

Hancock had a question but didn’t raise it, no point banging his fists against the wall for nothing.

The small voice was back and she rolled onto her back. Hancock was quick to get to his feet, unsure as to what she was doing.

“I need my pack,” she stated as she struggled to move her feet. “Shit, John, how many chems did you let her pump into me? I swear if I get an addiction…”

“Calm down, Sunshine,” he rasped, reaching down to grab her pack. “Amari’s not an idiot, and do you really think Daisy would let something happen to ya?”

He dropped her pack on the bed, she tried to sit up but her arms betrayed her and she fell back. Hancock chuckled before taking it upon himself to riffle through her pack.

“I’ve killed for less than that, you know,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.

“Sunshine, I could shoot you in the foot and you still wouldn’t hurt me, I’m too irresistible…What the hell?” He pulled the, whatever the hell it was supposed to be, out of her pack. “ _This_ what you’re looking for?”

She moved her head to look at him.

_What the fuck is that?_

Yet it seemed so familiar. She outstretched her hands to hold it, Hancock obliged before moving to readjust her pillows so she could sit up. She smiled at him in gratitude before focusing back on the device in her hands. She made sure her fingers brushed against every part of it.

_Think. What’s the last thing you remember?_

There was Slocum Joe’s, of course, but before that? She was… _somewhere_ , a strange yet familiar presence behind her. _Why the hell wasn’t RJ with me?_ The events of Castle came flooding back to her, he was injured and couldn’t come with her. But come with her where?

“I, I can’t remember why I have this,” she admitted, a mixture of defeat and annoyance in her voice.

“That’s alright, love. Like I told ya, it’ll come to ya eventually.”

“Yeah, but I don’t do well with not knowing.”

_A woman this small should not be able to carry this much._

Hancock sat and watched as she methodically emptied her pack, categorising each item with different piles, subconsciously or intentionally he wasn't sure, on the bed. Her OCD was worse than Kent’s.

Amari had come back to check on her once more, she ignored all the poking and prodding, answering any question to the best of her ability and continued to search through her pack for answers.

The room fell silent and he looked at her, she was holding a holotape in her hands, her eyes fixated on it.

“‘Join the Railroad’” she read aloud. She turned the holotape over in her grasp, within seconds she remembered how she found it. “One of your drifters dropped this,” she explained, passing it to Hancock.

He took it cautiously, like the thing would explode (and with those Railroads agents, it was a possibility). He knows exactly what drifter she’s talking about. And he’s not a drifter at all.

“What’d he look like?” He asked pointlessly.

“He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt,” Hancock sighed internally. Well, that could be anyone. “Bald. Oh, and he was wearing sunglasses.”

She paused at her words. That description…and her dream. Even if it had only been for less than a second, she had imagine that _exact_ face. Still no idea why.

_Yep. That’s Deacon alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the start of sporadic flashbacks of her life. They're a complete jumble because we're not done figuring them out yet.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! xx


	14. Remember The Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep underground, in the catacombs of the Old Church, in the belly of the Railroad, the woman known as Whisper is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Tile: [Remember The Name - Fort Minor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDvr08sCPOc))
> 
> More Hancock fluff. More Deacon being awesome and a little bit of a memory boost - thanks to Goodneighbor's favourite drifter.

_What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_

 

Deacon had been in Goodneighbor for two days, ditching his usual drifter get up and creating an entirely new character. The caravan guard…without a caravan. Okay, so it was a crap effort but get off his back, he didn’t exactly have time to prepare. He arrived the day before news spread through the town that ‘Hancock’s lil Sunshine’ was awake. He was ridiculously relieved, at least she was alive. Soon she’d be up on her feet and on her way back to HQ with the prototype.

Then another two days passed. He'd ‘coincidentally’ been within earshot when Hancock was having a conversation with Daisy about her condition. She didn’t remember anything, which boded well, and not so well, for him. At least she wouldn’t remember him carrying her, but she still had the goddamn prototype and no memory as to why.

He was stuck for as long as she was, unable to go back to HQ, no nearby dead drops with anything to offer. His time away from HQ would start to look like desertion, or worse. Dez (with Carrington whispering in her ear and humping her leg) might assume that their newest recruit had run off and left him for dead.

It was time to swallow his pride and move this show along.

He nodded to the boys at the door and walked inside the Old State House. Hancock’s bodyguard, Fahrenheit, was sat on the chair at the bottom of the stairwell. He didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of danger, after all she knows who he is (sort of anyway) but she’s still pretty intimidating. Then again, Deacon figured that was probably the point of her. 

“The boss is a little… _busy_ right now,” she stated, her arms folded in front of her.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘indisposed’,” he responded, because apparently he likes the idea ofgetting of punched in the face, “and I know. That’s kinda why I’m here.”

His explanation was as vague as he could make it whilst explaining he can help. Fahrenheit understood him, because she’s not an idiot, and nodded to the ghoul at the bottom of the stairs. A Mexican waveof nods flows up the stairs and a second later Deacon heard someone upstairs knock on a door.

“Boss, you got a visitor.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard footsteps and looked up to see Hancock staring down at him. A look in his eye that made Deacon shit his pants a little.

Hancock doesn’t say a word as he descends the stairs.

“Follow me,” he instructed as he walked down a nearby corridor. There’s a bad vibe niggling at the back of Deacon’s head.

The door closing behind him was like a gunshot and it took a serious amount of effort not to visibly jump, though his heart was thumping hard in his chest.

“What’s up?” Hancock asked casually, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his packet of cigarettes. He took one out and offered  the pack to Deacon. “Here on Railroad business again?”

Deacon took an offered cigarette and reached in his own pocket for a lighter. “Kinda.”

They fell silent as they both took a moment to light their cigarettes and enjoy the first toke. The first toke was always the best in Deacon’s opinion.

“It’s to do with that girl you’ve got upstairs,” he admitted because there’s no point lying. In this particular instance, lying won’t get him anywhere and he wasn't happy about that fact in the slightest.

“Yeah, I gathered. Kinda what I meant by Railroad business.”

Deacon’s mouth opened before he had a chance to control it and Hancock chuckled.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“She’s got some weird _thing_ and a holotape in her pack, a holotape I know, for a _fact_ ,belongs to you.”

Deacon was lost for words, which didn’t happen often.

“So, what is it and is it going to explode?”

“I’m not sure and I doubt it, if it came from Tom, sure, I’d be worried about the safety of everyone within a thirty yard radius but this is Carrington’s thing. It’s more scientific than it is dangerous.”

“Why don’t I find that comforting?” Sighed Hancock. “What’d ya need from me?”

“I need her, and that prototype, back in HQ as soon as possible.”

“How well do you know her?” Hancock asked protectively.

“How well do _you_ know her?” retorted Deacon.

“Fair point,” shrugged Hancock. “I can steer her in the right direction but I can’t promise anything, Amari says it’s not wise to push.”

“Trying anything is better than doing nothing.”

“What made her join the Railroad in the first place?” asked Hancock, falling back to lean against the wall.

“No idea, she’d barely been through the door five minutes before I- before the Railroad pulled her into a mission.”

Deacon’s word slip had not been lost on Hancock, he clenched his fists in the knowledge that Deacon was partially responsible for what happened to her, but he relaxed at the regret in his voice. That was something at least.

Hancock finished his cigarette, crushed it under his boot and looked sternly at Deacon, who tensed immediately in response.

“I know damn well you helped get her here, and I’ll skip over the question of why you left her to walk through the gate alone, but you’d better tell me everything that happened.”

Deacon had little in the way of choices. There was no way of getting her or the prototype back without Hancock’s help, and outright refusing wouldn't work out well either, the Railroad counted on working inside Goodneighbor quite a lot.

With an angry chin thrust, Hancock gestured for Deacon to sit down, sheepishly he did. He took a deep breath and told Hancock his account of what happened between her walking into the Old Church and collapsing into Goodneighbor.

Hancock left the room before him, resting his back against the door and exhaling a large breath. That was a hell of a lot to absorb in such a small space of time. 

Amari was right, someone _had_ helped her and Hancock wondered if Deacon even knew that he actually helped save her life. Sunshine must be more valuable to the Railroad than Deacon was letting on. No matter, if Deacon was right (and regrettably he usually was) then he had to hurry. 

* * * *

Her mind was preoccupied with the bald man wearing sunglasses, the drifter she barely knew. She felt a sense of familiarity every time she thought about his face. The same feeling she remembered following her before Slocum Joe’s. She remembered agreeing to meet someone, but she couldn’t imagine she’d exactly arranged to meet up with a random drifter. She wasn’t an idiot.

But still, that feeling she got…Something about it didn’t sit right.

“Hey, Sunshine.” 

She’d been so lost in her head she didn’t even hear Hancock come back inside the room.

“You were gone a while, everything okay?”

“Everything’s good. I’ve just been trying to hunt down that drifter for you.” Hancock moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Listen, I’ve been thinking,” he reached inside his pocket to pull out the holotape. “If this belongs to him, I think that might too.” He gestured to the prototype on the bedside cabinet.

“How is that possible? He dropped that holotape when I bumped into him.”

_Yeah, ‘dropped’._ Deacon’s never dropped anything he hasn’t meant to.

“I think he’d notice dropping something _this_ big.” Not to mention she would have noticed him _carrying_ it.

Hancock sighed in defeat and leant forward to put the prototype in her lap, willing her to remember. “I think you joined the Railroad, sister.”

Her eyes burst open, her jaw dropped and the prototype almost slipped off the bed. She moved to catch it, internally berating herself for forgetting everything.

“I joined the Railroad,” she announced. “Oh shit,” she rushed to get out of bed. “John, I need to go.”

Hancock got up just in time to catch her as her legs gave out. With one arm under her knees, the other on her back, he took her (once more) back to bed. Her body froze at the feel of the arms around her, the same one that saved her from drowning. She reached up to rest a hand on his cheek and smiled at him. He was always coming to her rescue.

“You can’t keep me here forever, you know,” she teased, her eyelids fluttering at the sound of his laugh.

“The Railroad can have ya,” he teased back. “Once you’re all better.” The serenity of his voice made her heart ache.

“They’re going to think I’ve run off.”

Not to mention she needed to have a conversation with a certain bald man.

“Never you mind what they think. Gotta get ya better first, then you can join all the factions you want. I hear there’s a group of Brotherhood soldiers in town, and those guys are always recruiting.”

She was asleep before she could respond.

She drifted in and out of sleep constantly over the next few days, remembering snippets of events, dreaming over exaggerated versions, and each time, somehow, no matter how small, Deacon found his way in there somewhere.

Eventually she was okay to move, could stand on her own two feet. She was ready to go back to the Railroad. But Hancock had insisted, even dragging Daisy along to really set the guilt in. So, begrudgingly, she was stuck in Goodneighbour for a little while longer. Hancock barely left her side, making sure she spent most of her time in the Old State House under his watchful gaze.

“Did you always know he was part of the Railroad?”

“Who?” Hancock asked, finally inhaling the puff of Jet he hadn’t allowed himself to have for five days.

“The Silver Shroud,” she replied with an eyebrow raised. “Who do you think?”

“The Railroad have operated inside Goodneighbor for decades, they approached me when I became Mayor and, hey, anyone fighting against the Institute is okay in my book.”

“So, they really are trying to find the Institute?”

“That’s the story, sister.”

“Where else do they operate out of?” she asked because she had a feeling Goodneighbor wasn’t the only place.

“Hell if I know, I imagine that’s a need to know thing.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll find out when I get back. _If_ I ever do,”

“Hey, don’t be bitchy. You can’t blame people for worrying about ya.”

“I’d feel better if you let me leave this place once in a while. Seriously, John, in a post apocalyptic world there’s only so much fresh air a girl can get.”

“Okay, but be back by sundown.”

“Okay, _Dad_.” She teased, standing up from the couch.

“Believe me, given the thoughts I’ve had about you, I’m glad I’m no such thing,” he flirted, biting his lip as he watched her hips sway.

“I _must_ be better if you’re back to being shameless,” she smiled before wrapping her bandana around her face. She sighed at the feel of it. It had been a long time. The same thing happened when she put her sunglasses over her eyes. A weight that seemed to complete her.

She had walked around the place for the thousandth time, making her way back over to KL-E-0 because, maybe, her inventory had changed in the last five minutes.

“Blue!” Came an all too familiar voice.

And there was her thinking the people of Diamond City were too pompous to come to Goodneighbor. It wasn’t that she disliked Piper, the woman seemed to have a kind heart and she was determined, oh yeah she was definitely a determined woman when she got something in her head. But she was a little intense sometimes, she supposed Piper had to be, what with her being a reporter and all. Piper must have a lot of contacts out in the Commonwealth because Travis was _still_ talking about ‘the Vault Dweller’ every other song.

By the time she turned around, she was met by a face full of black hair as the reporter embraced her in a hug.

“Uh, Piper?” Her voice was muffled by hair. “What are you doing here?”

Piper broke away from her.

“Well, I needed to catch up with my favourite Vault Dweller.” She readjusted the reporter’s cap on her head and smiled.

“You came all this way for an _interview_?”

“ _Actually_ , I came here for a drink but since you’re here,” Piper linked their arms and dragged her towards the Third Rail. 

She couldn’t see a pen or notepad anywhere, to which she was grateful.

Piper _loved_ to talk, she never seemed to take a breath and constantly asked questions without giving time to answer before moving onto a different topic. 

The Third Rail was alive as ever, it was early in the afternoon and yet the patrons talked, and drank, like it was a Saturday night. They sat down at the bar and she took a sidewards glance to look at Magnolia singing her heart out, on fire; just like always. Piper continued to talk about life in the Great Green Jewel, still trying to unearth the truth about the Mayor and dealing with looking after her sister. She liked listening to people talk about their lives, even in a post-apocalyptic world, everything seemed so simple. Everyone she met had gone through hard times, it was amazing to see how quickly people picked themselves up off the ground. Back in her time, women would cry just because their hair was ‘misbehaving’. 

“Nat’s said she’s seen you a few times.”

She always liked Piper’s sister, she was scrappy and full of spunk that she used to have when she was that age. Like most kids in the Commonwealth, she had to grow up too fast. But by mentioning Nat, she knew where Piper was leading the conversation.

“Listen, Piper -“

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled.

She was relieved, not sure how she was going to finish that sentence, she’d not really thought of a lie just yet.

“We both know why you haven’t come to see lil ol’ me. Because we both know I’m gonna mention what you _should_ be doing in Diamond City. So, let’s have it,” she scanned her once more for any sign of a notepad. “ _Off the record_.”

The greatest three words that would ever come out of Piper’s mouth.

“Nick was singing your praises when he waltzed back into the City, you know, between telling people to stop fussing and that he had a job to do.” She silently gestured at Charlie for two shots of whiskey. “Have you not gone to see him because you don’t think he’ll have the answers you want? Or because you think he _will_ , and you’re not ready to hear the truth?” The glass scrapped against the wooden surface as Piper ushered the drink in front of her.

She opened her mouth to respond and, realising she wasn’t quite sure of the answer, closed it again.

“You can’t have spent this whole time walking around blindly, so what have you been doing? Off the record.” Piper ended when she tilted her head.

She was a little surprised Piper had to ask, up until now, she’d been assuming Piper was the one informing Travis about her but if she wasn’t…then who the hell was?

_Pay attention, she’s still talking to you._

“I mean, you’ve saved Diamond City’s most loved detective from being stuck underground until he rusts and you saved Travis, you know, from _Travis_ …”

She didn’t go into too much detail, completely skating over a few things but she told Piper everything she could about her work with the Minutemen, she wasn’t too bothered if Piper chose to write an article about them, more people would benefit if they knew the Minutemen were out there.

“Seriously? Like an _actual_ Castle? I’d love to see it, you know, once it’s a little more than rubble and dust. So,” Piper leaned back, observing the empty space next to her, “where’s the kid who’s been following you around? What, did he take all your caps and run?”

In frustration, her head fell into her hand. No one really knew MacCready, no one knew her like she did and she was getting annoyed with how little people thought of him. He wasn’t just a mercenary.

“No, he did not. He’s back home…” At least, she hoped he was by now. “I found a group that might know more about the Institute.”

_If I ever get back there._

There were probably agents running around the Commonwealth trying to track her down. It could be done easily enough, she hadn’t moved in almost a week.

“You mean the Railroad?  That’s why I haven’t seen Deacon for a few days!” Piper outburst in a moment of realisation.

She ripped the bandana off her face as she choked on the whiskey in her throat.

“What? How…what?” 

How the hell did Piper know who he was? The man was supposed to be a spy for a top secret organisation. Then MacCready’s words popped into her head.

_‘This is the Commonwealth, boss, there’s only so many secrets people can keep.’_

Maybe the man should try a little harder. She herself was, technically, already the worst kept secret in the Commonwealth, thanks to the reporter next to her and Travis. But hardly anyone knew it was the same person, and if they did, they just saw her as some crazy vigilante. That opinion had been established the moment she decided to run around Goodneighbor dressed as the Silver Shroud.

“Deacon…if you’ve met the Railroad, you _must_ have met him by now. Bald, never without a pair of sunglasses?” She nodded. “He usually hangs around the City dressed as a guard. I always know it’s him but you gotta let a guy have some things, you know?”

“Wait.” She cleared her throat. “He just walks around Diamond City dressed as a guard?”

There was something to be said for committing to a role…but that was probably a little extreme. She shouldn’t be so surprised, he changed outfits more than she did.

“Pretty much.” Piper was already downing her third shot as she placed another in front of her. “He doesn’t just do it in the City either. I bet that man pops up whenever you least expect him to.”

It certainly went a long way in explaining how he knew about her position in the Minutemen, even how he knew they’d cleared Castle and she’d done it less than twenty-four hours before she walked into the Church. 

“So, they’re a good group to get behind?”

Piper’s opinion, though not essential, was worth having. She still didn’t know how she felt about the Railroad. Sure, getting blinded by lights and having half a dozen guns pointed at her was certainly one way to introduce themselves. She got a pretty quick read on Desdemona when she was talking, but everyone else, especially Deacon, was a mystery. She didn’t know anything else about the organisation, even MacCready, who at least knew _some_ things about them, was surprisingly unhelpful when it came to the finer details.

“Well, they’re trying to find the Institute - that’s all you need to know isn’t it?”

She could always hold her liquor, her metabolism worked so quickly she barely had time to absorb the alcohol into her system. Piper was another story, a lot of shots and a few hours later, she was holding the reporter up with her arm and dragging her towards the Rexford.

“Sleep it off and you’ll be alright.” She reassured her once she’d got the room key from Clair and had dragged her up the stairs.

She pushed Piper into the room, closed the door and took a deep breath. 

It was really late now, the sun had set awhile ago, and Hancock was probably sending a neighbourhood watchman to track her down.

He was, and halfway down the street, Harvey was running up to her and guiding her back to the Old State House.

“You had me real worried, Sunshine.” Hancock crashed into her and wrapped his arms around her head.

“But not so worried you felt the need to come find me yourself," s he laughed into his coat.

“People will start talking if they see me runnin’ after ya like a dog.”

“What happened to not caring what people say about you?” 

He took a gently hold of her hand as he walked her over to the couch. 

“I said not to care about what people say about _you_. I’m a completely different story, love.”

She closed her eyes and smiled when her face fell against his chest and he pulled her against him. The hand on her hip was gentle, kind and possessive all at the same time.

Hancock wanted to keep her safe and she was letting him. He didn’t need to, she already felt ridiculously safe around him, she always had done, but over the last few days, he’d watched over her like his life depended on it. For all the obscene notions that came out of his mouth, he really was the sweetest man she knew. He was Mayor Hancock, the cocky, chem-addicted ghoul. No one ever saw the man behind the costume, but she did. 

She could have stayed in Goodneighbor forever but there was somewhere she needed to be. The prototype was still in her pack.

After checking her over, _again_ , and letting Daisy give her the once over, _again_ , Hancock had decided she was okay to leave. Mainly because she had already made up her mind and was half way to the gate, but she could forgive him for being overprotective, he saved her life. _Again_. Honestly, she owed her life to too many people and things in the world, she was going to have to start writing them down. She really wasn’t used to this many people having her back.

She was hoping she could still be there for the Railroad, even if a whole week (a week!) had past since she first stepped inside the Old Church. And if they didn’t want or need her help, she was determined to make them remember her and forever regret not letting her help when she was offering. Her marksmen training had taught her to be patient, to wait until the last second, but there was even a point where she’d give in the towel. Hers would last more than a week though. She hoped the Railroad’s did too.

As much as he loved the attention Daisy doted on him, being cooped up with her in Goodneighbour had made Dogmeat crazy too and he only ran off ahead of her a few times. The third time there was a surprise attack from a few ferals and he didn’t leave her side after that.

_Well, that’ll teach you won’t it._

She probably should have told him off and she definitely shouldn’t have hugged him so easily. She was just glad he was okay and, with those big eyes staring apologetically up at her, she couldn’t stay mad at him for very long. She owed her life to him, more than she did MacCready, who was still in the back of her mind as she made the trip back to the Old Church, she wondered how he was doing and whether he was tearing at the walls to go out. She swore, if she went back to Sanctuary and he hadn’t left at least once, she was going to punch him. Hard.

* * * * 

Deacon, having trusted Hancock to finish his job for him, returned empty handed and alone to HQ.

He’d spoon-fed Dez some elaborate lie about her having to fight off a hundred synths singlehandedly whilst he bled in the corner, he’d recovered well but she was off seeking medical attention. Well, didn’t that just piss Carrington off? Deacon felt a little bad, setting in the Doc’s hate for her even before she said two words to him. Though, technically that last bit wasn’t a lie, she really was off getting help and HQ _had_ been too far away.

She was coming back, he just wasn’t sure when.

Almost a week had past since the incident at the Switchboard, the second one that is, and Dez was starting to wonder where their new recruit was. He’d yet to bring up the fact they’d tracked down the prototype because that would simply raise the question of why he let her take it. 

“Are you _sure_ she was alive when you left her?” 

It sounded like concern, and whilst it kind of was, Deacon knew better. Dez wasn’t worried about their new recruit possibly being dead in a ditch somewhere, she was concerned that that they’d be down a recruit and would be stuck, once more, within the confines of HQ, waiting for another saviour to walk through the door.

It wasn’t until the next day that everyone’s apprehensions were answered. She rushed back into HQ, wearing the leather outfit he’d seen her wear the first time and silently laughed to himself.

_Must be her Railroad outfit._

Overall she looked okay, a little worse for wear (from what he could see) which wasn’t surprising considering she’d spent the better part of a week stuck in bed, recovering from what Hancock had referred to as ‘major surgery’ and no one’s sure how she managed to get injured in the first place. Not even Deacon, and he’d been there.

Her hands were already outstretched in front of her when she waltzed back into HQ, the prototype carefully in her grasp.

“Sorry it took so long.” 

The first words out of her mouth! He couldn’t believe it. Maybe she was going to help them, she certainly didn’t look as though she was about to kill them all.

_Listen to you, that’s what she wants you to think. Give her time, she might still do it._

She probably could as well. He and Glory were, hands down, the best sharpshooters in the whole Railroad and once they were both dead, she could quite easily kill everyone who was left. Everyone certainly looked like they could handle a fight, when you catch someone off guard and point a dozen rifles at them anyone’s going to look tough but given the upper hand…she’d kill them all in their sleep.

He was going to be one tired son of a gun.

Don’t get him wrong, the Railroad could handle themselves just fine but each one of them had been through shit in their lives, both separately and together. There was only so much crap people could take before they threw in the towel.

“Deacon said you needed to fix yourself up for a while.” 

As soon as he heard his name the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he slyly ushered a little closer. 

“I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.”

_Translation: I’m glad you didn’t steal or break the prototype._

A tiny hitch of breath left her and without moving a muscle, she scanned the room to see him stood not too far away. If he had to put a bet on her facial expression, he’d say she was smiling. Like she didn’t expect him to cover for her.

_There is literally no need to thank me_.

“So, is what Deacon said true? I mean, he lies a lot so I’m never really sure.”

“What did he say?” He could hear the sudden panic in her voice, it was indistinguishable to lesser people, but Deacon had hearing that matched a dog’s.

Speaking of dogs, hers was looking at him, but not viciously at all. Deacon could be wrong (honestly that was unlikely) but the dog looked happy to see him

The right command she said. In German. Who speaks German anymore? Russian, sure. French, there were still a few of those out there but other than that, it was your basic american accents and a few dimwitted words from a super mutant or two.

“Did you really fight off a hundred synths singlehandedly?”

He could tell she was looking at him whilst his face was screaming _come on, play along,_ not too desperately of course.

“Only a hundred?” She didn’t hide it when she dramatically moved her entire body to look at him. “What? Did you pass out for the other hundred?”

A huff of air left him loudly when he choked on his sudden chuckle. 

_Play along, indulge me or just take it one step further._

Desdemona didn’t have a lot to say after that, she quickly ran off to give Carrington back his prototype whilst the woman stood like a lost child. The boss didn’t acknowledge her again, she just opened the folder in front of her, began ‘umming and erring’ as only the boss knew how before expelling an over exaggerated sigh

_It’s not that bad, Dez._

“So,” Desdemona looked up from the folder in her hand, she scanned her eyes over the woman in front of her.

_Yeah…good luck with that one. I’ve been trying for weeks._

“You’re gonna need a name. Any ideas?”

Deacon saw her still for a moment, her brain working overdrive, but when he saw her pull out the gun from her side, he recognised it immediately. She still had it, that spoke volumes, surely? She turned it over in her hand a few times and Deacon knew what she was going to say before the word left her mouth.

“Whisper.”

_Fitting._

Dez didn’t know how to respond to that, she stuttered a few words and then quickly thrusted a MILA into her hands and ushered her out the door.

In reflex, and a little hope, Deacon had begun to peel himself away from the desk, ready for her to ask him to join but that’s not what happened. She turned on her heel, gave a dramatic wave to the room, bowed her head and left.

_That was…Well, that was her walking away wasn’t it?_

He wasn’t sure he should feel so confused, but he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of in love with Hancock right now.
> 
> And yeah, I still don't really like Piper.


	15. White Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper's on probation and Deacon's stuck in HQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For me this chapter is kind of like (what I think is) the fifth Harry Potter and things go a bit dark and like 'wtf'...yeah that is what this chapter is like and I pray that even though it's confusing it makes sense....
> 
> (Chapter Title: [White Butterfly - InMe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrdXe6ICnCQ) because oddly this song fits this chapter even more now.)

_An overflow of good converts to bad._

 

_“None of you were chosen at random.” The old lady began. Maybe old was a little too harsh but at such a young age, everyone seemed old to her. Authoritative and intimidating. “You are here because you share a unique gift, an ability to save the world.”_

_Some of the other children were crying, still wondering where they were, others lit up at the prospect of playing ‘hero’ to the rest of the world, but not her. Even then, she knew there were no heroes, no one who could truly save humanity from itself._

_“You will learn how to fight, you will be stronger than you are now. We will make you better, every single one of you.” Her eyes scanned over the sea of children around her and she felt the woman intentionally stop to stare directly at her._

_She wasn’t imagining it, some of the surrounding kids had noticed too, and before she knew it, dozens of eyes were on her. From the beginning she’d been singled out._

_Training had been easier in the beginning, there wasn’t much action, just a lot of book reading. The other children, mostly the boys, moaned — couldn’t see how they could learn to fight by reading. Back when they used to protest out loud because they didn’t know about the consequences of arguing with the people that were essentially holding them captive._

_They soon learnt what happened when they talked back. One by one, they were dragged away, some for hours at a time, and each of them returned to the library, the light in their eyes gone and replaced by fear. They returned to reading the books they were ‘too good’ to read, not speaking a word to anyone, but their crazed muttering could be heard in the silence of the library._

_Calling it a library might have been a stretch, it was basically a small room (the smallest room in the entire complex) with a few desks and chairs, and almost all books didn’t go beyond the subject of warfare._

_One quiet afternoon, when she was halfway through reading the Art of War for the sixth time, a man in army fatigues approached her. She heard him coming before she saw him, could feel the shadowy figure approach her from behind and — thinking it was one of the kids that teased her relentlessly — she was up on her feet and swinging her fist behind her as she span around._

_Her fist was stopped by a large palm and she stared at the man — who would eventually become her commanding officer — in shock._

_“Sorry, Sir.” She lowered her fist and held her hands by her sides, she stared apologetically down at the ground. Behind her, she could hear a few of the others try to stifle a laugh. So far she’d been the only one not to bite back, the only one to accept her fate and move on with her life._

_“No need to apologise, soldier." His acceptance of her actions took her by surprise, so much so she couldn’t hide the confusion on her face. He looked at her for a moment before his eyes scanned the room and the warning in his eyes stopped anyone else from making another noise. “At ease.”_

_He turned his attention back to her. Unsure whether it was a test or not, she didn’t relax, she stayed with her back straight, her arms glued to her sides and her eyes boring into him._

_“It’s not a test,” he offered. “You are in your free time, soldier, you should relax.”_

_The words made it sound like a suggestion but there was an authoritative tone to his voice and she did as she was told. The officer made what sounded like a noise of pride at her ability to submit. For a moment, they stood in silence, staring each other down._

_“How old are you, soldier?” His eyes scanned down her body and she felt even smaller. Everyone, including the children younger than her, was taller and she wasn’t sure her neck would ever get used to cranking up this high._

_“Seven years, three months and two days old, Sir.”_

_“Tell me,” his eyes scanned the room once more and all the children who had stopped to stare at them quickly went back to reading. “How do you feel about having to read?”_

_She didn’t answer straightaway, she did as he did and scanned the room in front of her. All of them were making a point not to look at them but the sidewards glances were not lost on her, and she suspected they weren’t lost on the officer either._

_“Is this a test, Sir?” She found the courage to ask. In response, he straightened his back, folded his arms in front of his chest and gave a single nod of his head.It was a test, possibly not her first one but it was certainly the first one of which she were aware._

_“‘He who wishes to fight must first count the cost.’” She quoted. It wasn’t exactly her opinion on having to read but she knew why they were asking them to. They had to know about the past before they went about saving the future, they had to learn from the mistakes of others._

_There was a downturn of his mouth, but it wasn’t out of disappointment, more out of intrigue. His eyes fell on the open book on the table behind her. Her body tensed when he leant forward, past her, to pick it up._

_“How many times have you read this, soldier?” He asked, flipping the book in his hands, taking note of the dog-eared pages she’d created._

_“At least ten times, Sir.” It didn’t take long for her to get used to ending every sentence with the word ‘Sir’ when speaking to those in charge, it came naturally after a while — rolling off her tongue without a second thought._

_“None of the other books intrigue you?”_

_She responded with a shake of her head and the customary “No, Sir.”_

_“Pray tell why this particular author has piqued your interest?”_

_The entire library had grown deafly silent, everyone was waiting for her response — even the children that bullied her were watching out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for her to put her foot in her mouth and find herself on the wrong side of the trenches._

_“Permission to speak freely, Sir?” she asked cautiously. He nodded. “All of the other books teach us how to hold and fire a gun, how to use weaponry to gain the upper hand. Sun Tzu teaches us to find hidden weaknesses, shows us how to subdue an enemy without fighting. Sir.”_

_She didn’t think it was possible but the room fell even more silent, no one even dared to breath aloud. All of them waiting to see what consequences would come from her confession._

_“Psychological warfare, eh?”_

_At seven years old, she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that — not then at least._

_“I understand the importance of knowing how to shoot, Sir, understand that I may have to use a gun one day,” she knew that it might be a case of kill or be killed. “But a broken enemy is far more useful than a dead one, Sir.”_

_The officer was quiet for a moment, taken aback by the rational response of someone so young._

_“Come with me,” he eventually said and she obediently followed with asking where they were going. She took a moment to look behind her to gauge the faces of her fellow soldiers, some looked shocked, some looked scared. Garth, the biggest (tallest) bully of them all, shot her a shit eating grin and she saw his lips move._

_Good riddance._

 

“You clean that barrel anymore and the things gonna disappear,” came a laugh that pulled her back to reality.

It took her a moment to realise where she was, she was sat in a dark tunnel, her back against the wall and she looked down to see the barrel of her gun in her hand — the other pieces spread across the ground in front of her.

She looked up to see the woman towering above her. Her eyes immediately fell on the gold, heavily clad armour wrapped around her chest, her gaze then moving to the minigun strapped to her back.

_Glory._

She was mesmerised by the woman the moment she laid eyes on her, her first experience of a gen. three synth, real proof of what the Institute was capable of. And she was nice, she was one of the good ones.

Her white hair reflected perfectly off her ebony skin and she wondered, with the dim light surrounding her, if Glory was about to sprout wings and prove herself to be the angel of death she saw her as. Her own hair was still safely tucked in away in the red wig she always wore around HQ. Her own hair had gotten ridiculous now and she wasn’t ready for anyone to see it. MacCready had commented on it every fucking time they were alone, and as much as she loved him, she really didn’t wanted to talk about it. She was trying to forget that Vault-Tec ruined her life…She shook the juvenile thought out of her head, they didn’t ruin her life, just her hair.

“It’s not like there’s anything else to do,” she muttered in annoyance, put the barrel down on the ground and moved to pick up the shell of her gun, using the cloth in her hand to clean the trigger guard. The last thing she wanted was for her gun to pack up on her…again.

“Aww, don’t say it like that.” Glory took the gun off her back and threw it to the ground. The echoing sound deafened her slightly, her eyes closed at the sound of it but the rest of her body didn’t react. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, seriously.”

Her hands were busy cleaning her gun, her eyes looking to the side as Glory moved to sit down next to her.

“Easy for you to say.”

She knew becoming part of a ‘secret’ organisation was going to be difficult but you’d think almost dying would have brought her some good faith. 

Probation.

It was a word no one ever spoke to her, not in a way that was directed her at least. She wasn’t even sure what it meant. Was she a part of the Railroad or not? Her silent question was answered the first time Desdemona thrusted a weathervane into her hands (she eventually found out what its purpose actually was). She was stuck doing small jobs. The jobs no one else wanted, or a ‘real’ agent was too good to be wasting their time with.

It didn’t take her long, the Railroad seemed in desperate need of help, and she did everything she could to hurry them along.

It took her less than forty-eight hours to plant every MILA Tom had so far built, Carrington had run out of dead drops and even their Assaultron, P.A.M, didn’t have any more DIA caches. 

The first time she’d been sent out to install a MILA, Desdemona was surprised that she returned in less than an hour. She didn’t exactly rush either. The Railroad really needed to hurry up. Their focus, whilst noble, was all wrong. From what she could tell, they were just concerned with helping synths, Desdemona didn’t seem like a ‘big picture’ type of person.

“Can you really blame her though?” asked Glory rationally.

“No.” She relented with a sigh.

No, she couldn’t. As much as she hated it, she knew why Desdemona was cautious. The Railroad lost a number of people when the Institute attacked the Switchboard, she’d seen the bodies, and the first stranger to step foot inside their new home had taken something valuable and essentially gone AWOL.

For over a week.

She could kick Hancock for making her stay in Goodneighbor for so long, but his heart was in the right place, and Desdemona seemed to get over it easily enough.

“No one was sure what happened,” Glory begun to explain. “Here’s this stranger, walking into our inner-sanctum and then you two disappear for over a week.”

The gun slipped out of her hands, bounced on the ground a little before settling down with a residue echo.

_Wait…._

“What do you mean ‘ _you two_ ’?” As far as she was concerned, Deacon had returned to the Railroad the second he left her at the Switchboard, letting her find her own way back.

“Deacon was gone too, for almost as long as you were, came back the day before you did.”

Not for the first time since living in the Commonwealth, she was at a loss for words.

“He told Dez the two of you have gone out to train, something happened and you ended up having to rush to the nearest doctor - a fact Carrington is still not happy about. He never said the two of you had attempted to clear out the Switchboard, now I know why.”

She dramatically turned her head towards the synth, silently asking her to elaborate.

“Dez would have fucking killed him if she knew he’d dragged you there and let you keep the prototype. Lucky for all of us you came back with it as soon as you were okay to move.”

At first she assumed it had been a coincidence, that he’d just said the first thing that came to mind to cover for her and not for one second did she think he’d done it for her benefit. A veteran spy had taken a new recruit and thrown her head first into the Railroad’s problems - he was covering his own ass.

But what if it hadn’t been a coincidence? What if he’d followed her the entire time? 

It wouldn’t be the first time…

On her last night in Goodneighbor, when Hancock had given her ‘permission’ to stay out after sunset, she sat in the Third Rail on a couch, on her own; just her and bottle of whiskey, and she thought about her conversation with Piper, and her previous conversations with Hancock.

At first she tried to think about it rationally, as Hancock said, the Railroad worked out of Goodneighbor all the time, it only made sense that the same could be said for Diamond City. But the deeper she got into the whiskey bottle, the further her mind travelled.

If Piper was right, and Deacon dressed as a Diamond City guard, then there was a chance he’d been there when she saw the stadium for the first time. With a sip of whiskey burning down her throat she quickly realised he _was_ there. Sure, the voice was a little different, an octave or two lower, but it was definitely him now she’d heard Deacon speak - he was the guard who directed her to the City in the first place.

It was hard to think that it was something someone undercover would do, though if he took the role of guard seriously…maybe he would. She was making guesses, not having anything real to go on but she had a feeling he knew more about her than she originally thought.

_Now that’s just not fair._

She was on her second bottle of whiskey and more pieces had begun to click together. 

She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, too busy trying to scare the crap out of him, but that multicoloured patchwork coat…she’d seen it before. MacCready took her to Bunker Hill, telling her it would be a good neutral spot for the Minutemen caravans to trade through. Like any trading hub, there were dozens of people there, he was just another face in a sea of faces but her mind absorbed everything. Whether she wanted it to or not.

She remembered the squabbling men in the far back, a man telling his son not to join the Railroad. The kind woman in the bright blue mechanic jumpsuit sternly telling a trader prices were non-negotiable and the quiet loner in the corner. Wearing a multicoloured coat and a pair of sunglasses.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence, sure, maybe one of them was, but there was no way he just _happened_ to be in three places when she stepped through for the first time. And she hadn’t forgotten that he knew her position in the Minutemen.

She almost choked on the bottle when she remembered Travis mentioning Billy for the first time. Had Deacon been there then too? Had he been the one telling Travis everything she did? She realised from her conversation with Piper that Travis hadn’t been getting information about her from the reporter, so her brain could only reach one conclusion. It wasn’t a coincidence, Deacon had been following her, practically stalking her, and she hadn’t even noticed. Her, of all people.

Then the question hit her. How long had he been following her? Then…Had he been there when she stepped out into the Commonwealth? Was he the reason her pod opened in the first place? She made a mental note to go back up to the vault to search for clues, even though months had past, there could still be something.

It certainly went a long way in explaining why she kept dreaming about him when she was stuck in Goodneighbor. Hancock hadn’t said a word, just told her she came through the door on her own…but what if she hadn’t been dreaming when she heard Amari and Hancock having a conversation? What if, somewhere in the deep crevices of her mind, she was overhearing them whilst she slept?

Amari said it herself, she couldn’t have got to Goodneighbor on her own…what _if_ Deacon had helped her?

There were too many questions, too many things she needed to know, but she knew a professional liar was the last person to give her the answers she needed. She needed to be clever, needed to come up with a plan before she even acknowledged his existence. 

She wasn’t too worried, ever since she’d been taken to the Director at seven years old and got assigned her field, she knew how to beat down an enemy without using violence.

Deacon had lived (more than) a few decades, been a lot of places, and he’d seen a lot of stupid shit throughout all of it, like the time he fell asleep on a vertibird and found himself in the Mojave Desert. But that was nowhere near as stupid as the decision Dez just made.

He, as per usual with the boss, got off scot-free - furrowed brows and a pinched mouth but her eyes shouted forgiveness. They always did. Whisper was a part of the Railroad…sort of.

The annoying thing was he could see where Dez was coming from. Ever since the Switchboard, the Railroad were a little more protective of each other, so the idea of a new recruit and a veteran spy going into their old base was probably so nerve-wracking, Desdemona was overlooking the fact they were both alive. Granted it had been a really close call (like scary close) but Dez didn’t need to know that bit and Whisper seemed to get over her injuries soon enough.

From what he could tell anyway, she bolted out the door about as fast as she came through it. It might have had something to do with the fact he carried her over two miles, but he was a little annoyed that she left without him. Considering everything they’d already been through, including the stuff she didn’t know about.

_Don’t you think you’re expecting a little too much of her? I mean, we don’t know anything about her._

Deacon knew enough. Hell, he’d _seen_ enough to know the Railroad needed her and, considering she’d come on her own, she needed them too. So why Dez decided to put her on probation, he’ll never know. He saw her mouth fall open underneath her bandana and he knew she was just as shocked (and curious, if the slight raise of her eyebrow was any indication) as him.

She accepted Dez’s conditions and set about doing meaningless jobs for the Railroad. Two days into her probation and she’d pretty much secured the Commonwealth for them for quite some time. 

He’d been stuck inside HQ since he came back from Goodneighbor, Dez under the impression he was _just_ coming back a trainine exercise. Deacon was gathering more dust than that typewriter in the corner no one ever used. He was like a stray dog, waiting for his owner to come back and get him. Or at least for someone to take him outside. 

He was slowly going insane. 

The Commonwealth had been quiet, uneasily so, none of his usual contacts had any pressing issues he needed to deal with. Between Dez and the guys over at Ticonderoga and Griswold, synth gathering had become a breeze and, because of Whisper, Dez had no solo work for him, no matter how small, no matter how many times he asked. When it came to keeping busy, he was not too proud to beg, it kept him out of his head for a whole five minutes. And five minutes was a hell of a lot better than no minutes.

Sure, she told him there were a lot of ‘team’ missions he could go on but Tom was not suited for the field…same for all of them really and, despite being the closest thing he had to a best friend, he and Glory had very different fighting styles. He was more of a ‘hide in the trees and shoot from afar’ sort of person whereas Glory just tended to square up to people with a look of thunder and a minigun in her hands.

It just wasn’t a good mix.

_Let’s be honest here, shall we?_

_For once in our lives…_

_We all know there’s only one person you want to go on a mission with._

As much as he loathed it, he knew they were right, there _was_ only one Railroad agent he wanted to work with. But she was hardly around HQ, spent less than ten minutes in the place when she was, before disappearing again, without so much as a glance in his general direction.

But Deacon was watching her, as slyly as he could anyway.

_Major surgery…_ He wracked his brain, still trying to figure out what almost killed her in the first place, and even days later, he couldn’t figure out what happened. He’d been worried about her ever since she set the Switchboard on fire, noticed the subtle differences that would have been lost on everyone else and the blood oozing out of her head had to come from _somewhere,_ right?

Hancock hadn’t told him _exactly_ what happened, just echoed the words ‘major surgery’ continuously and Deacon wasn’t sure if he was being unhelpful on purpose or really was just as clueless as the rest of them.

He’d have to make the trip back to Goodneighbor at some point, maybe have a word with Amari. Sure, the doctor was big on patient/doctor confidentiality but Deacon was secretly hoping that mentioning her involvement with the Railroad might be enough to weasel _some_ information out of the good doctor.

Who was he kidding, there was no way Amari was going to tell him…even if he was the fucking King of the Commonwealth. He also suspected that, even if he _did_ know, Hancock wouldn’t tell him either. Apparently ‘Sunshine’ was an important figure in Goodneighbor.

He couldn’t help but notice how quickly she dropped off one mission and got another; as if there was nothing more important to her. Which he knew wasn’t true, wasn’t she looking for a kid? Or something? He could help her with that. Now the only problem he had was finding a way to bring it up, without actually bringing it up.

_Oh yeah, that’s not going to be complicated at all._

Whisper started to spend more time in HQ between missions, just a little more, not enough for anyone else to realise, but Deacon had taken note. And as soon as she handed in her last cache, and the well of missions had run dry, she was stuck - just like the rest of them - inside HQ, waiting for Dez to pull her finger out of her ass.

For the first time since joining the Railroad, she found herself sleeping in HQ, mainly because she didn’t have a reason to leave. It was weird to be sleeping amongst a bunch of old coffins but she’d certainly slept in worse places.

Glory had practically insisted she take the mattress next to hers. The location was pretty good, they were just around the corner so they missed most of the breeze that ran through the war room. Glory had a different fighting style, obviously, the minigun was a dead giveaway, but she knew so much about weapons, it was nice to finally have someone to talk to about them. Most people just considered a gun, a gun, and left it at that, they never really gave a thought to what each weapon could do, if you used it properly. But Glory did.

“What about calibre?” Glory asked when they were sat down on their respective mattresses. “I mean, clearly you’re a big fan of the 10mm,” she added, her eyes falling on the pistols on the floor next to them.

“And you clearly like 5mm bullets,” she retorted, her own eyes falling on Glory’s minigun. “You just use a shit load at the same time.”

She knew Glory would like her swearing, the synth swore a hell of a lot. She had at least tried to stop swearing when she travelled with MacCready, silently helping him with his promise to Duncan.

“But that’s it though? I mean, you don’t use anything else?” Glory had an all-knowing glint in her eye.

“I’ve got a few knives hidden away.” She added. Her combat knife was in her boot and her switchblade was in her pocket. “Plus, I lock my sniper rifle in the cage just inside the escape tunnel every time I come back here.”

“Seriously? Damn girl.” They high-fived and laughed. 

She heard the footsteps first and looked just in time to see Deacon peek his head around the corner. Internally she punched herself for not recognising him sooner, it was hard to not see him now she’d _seen_ him. He really had been _everywhere_ , reality or otherwise he was always there.

“Goodnight, ladies!”

She could feel his eyes scanning over both of them, evaluating the level of their friendship, possibly wondering how much Glory had told her about him - nothing, as of yet.

“What the fuck you want?” questioned Glory, an eyebrow arched in suspicion at Deacon.

“Nothing!” He dramatically placed his hands over his chest in feigned offence. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Now you have, so you can fuck off.” Glory threw a glance in her direction and, if she didn’t know any better, it looked like Glory was trying to protect her from Deacon, for as long as possible.

Deacon didn’t move away, instead his clasped his hands behind his back and began to roll on the balls of his feet expectantly. Glory ignored him for a while, just wanting to turn back to her and continue their conversation, but her eyes would occasionally glance over at the man still stood in the archway.

“ _Goodnight,_ Deacon,” she relented. Glory didn’t even need to ask why he was still stood there, they’d known each other for too long for her to have to, but they’d also known each other long enough for her to recognise when he was up to something.

It was sincere and sarcastic all at the same thing. Glory was awesome.

“So, what’s his deal?” She asked when Deacon was definitely out of earshot.

To her disappointment Glory just shrugged.

“He’s got so many it’s hard to keep track. He’s a liar; a good one.” She knew that already. “He’s also one hell of an agent. Everything the Railroad knows about each other comes from spending _years_ together, nothing is ever said out loud and anything anyone notices…well, we just keep it to ourselves. Some people don’t wanna talk about certain things and, in this line of work, you have to learn to ignore it.”

She grew up living like that, except her barely learnt to ignore it. There were just some things she couldn’t.

“Just ignore whatever BS comes out his mouth and you’ll be fine. But the real key to Deacon is figuring out what is BS and what isn’t.”

It suddenly occurred to her that this was why he ran his mouth the entire way to the Switchboard, why he was so quick to explain the history of the place to her. She wouldn’t exactly call it a test, maybe just the build up to one. He wanted to see if she could tell the difference between when he was telling the truth and when he was lying. She could, now she’d thought about it.

They were in the same line of work after all.

“You’re new, so he’ll definitely try to mess with you.”

It was what she’d been waiting for.

“Mess with me how?” She asked curiously, not desperately.

“Um,” Glory’s index finger tapped her lip as she processed her thoughts.

_I do that too._

“When Tommy first joined,” Glory raised a fist in the air as a sign of respect to her fallen agent. “Deacon managed to convince him he used to be a girl.”

She had to laugh at that. It was just so childish, not the sort of thing she expected from a full-grown man.

“Oh!” A strong hand slapped down on her thigh as Glory remembered something else.

_Holy shit that hurt._

“Has he told you he’s a synth yet?”

_He hasn’t told me anything else because I haven’t said a word to him_. She smiled to herself and shook her head.

“Good. Don’t believe him because there’s only one fucking synth in the Railroad and that’s this bitch.” Glory pointed a thumb at her own chest and laughed.

She laughed back, her face plastered with a smile no one could see but in the back of her mind she was thinking about the man asleep on the other side of the archway. Everything had been a test, Deacon had planned all of it.

Okay, so the Railroad _did_ work out of Goodneighbor, Diamond City _and_ Bunker Hill and a few of them _may_ have been coincidental but she knew one moment that wasn’t.

Bumping into him hadn’t been an accident, he’d _let_ her walk into him so he could ‘accidentally’ drop the holotape. If he was so willing to let a stranger get their hands on it, maybe she wasn’t such a stranger to him after all.

Wearing that coat when they met underneath the overpass…he'd done it to jog her memory. He was clever, intelligent, a perfect liar. Too bad, because she was too.

 

_The officer walked her through the endless corridors, stopping at a large wooden door that seemed out of place. Too old and extravagant in contrast to the modern complex that made up the rest of the base. Instinctively she felt her blood run cold as she stared at the gold letters on the door._

_The Director._

_She didn’t stare up at her superior officer, too afraid to see the answer to her fears on his face. He’d given her permission to speak freely, they wouldn’t throw her to the wolves just for that, would they?_

_They stood outside and waited until an older female voice beckoned them through. Her eyes immediately fell on the woman behind the oversized, mahogany desk. The last time she’d seen her the woman was wearing a white lab coat, addressing a hall full of children. The first time they met, she was flipping a coin in front of her and asking her to guess the outcome._

_“I remember you,” she spoke softly, sounded genuine but even at seven years old, she had her doubts. There were hundreds of kids in that hall, various age ranges, why on earth would the Director remember her in particular?_

_“Please sit,” it sounded more like a request than a command but she treated it as one regardless and sat obediently down on the chair on the other side, silently willing her head not to look at the ground._

_“Tell me, what is your designation?”_

_“C-S-F-0-8-0-4-5-2-0-0-G.”_

_Both of her superiors looked impressed at that moment and the Director was quick to answer the question on her face._

_“You’ve been with us less than a week and you have already memorised your code, not many others can boast the same.”_

_She wasn’t sure what there was to boast about, it was simply a serious of letters and numbers, and it wasn’t like she had much else to do on the way here other than absorb her new identity. She was just a designation code now._

_“In a hypothetical situation, where you can be reunited with your family or save the world, what would you choose?”_

_She could feel eyes on her, but the words rolled off a tongue. “Save the world.”_

_The officer looked happy with her answer but, for a second, she could see the disappointment on the Director’s face before it vanished._

_“Now, are you saying that because that is what you would do? Or because you think it’s what I want to hear?”_

_She tried her hardest to stop her eyebrow from so much as twitching._

_“But that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, Ma’am.”_

_The officer looked at her like he wanted to throw her in the brig. Is that what they do here? Throw them in some sort of ‘kiddie prison’ when they stepped out of line, but not so out of line that it required physical pain?_

_“How could you tell?”_

_In that moment she knew it was no longer a conversation, it was a test._

_“Your eyes, Ma’am,” the woman didn’t say anything and she took it as an invitation to continue. “Your brow furrowed towards the bridge of your nose, you looked down for just a second and your bottom lip pouted slightly.”_

_Silence descended in the room, so thick she thought she’d have to swim for it. The officer next to her still looked angry though a tiny little bit worried about her, and the Director’s face was straight before erupting into a proud smile that reached her eyes._

_“Outstanding.”_

_Once again she was confused at the compliment, she just noticed things, it wasn’t like she could control it._

_“Are you self-taught?”_

_She didn’t (couldn’t) hide the confusion on her face at the question._

_“You’re a natural. The first I’ve ever come across, I was almost beginning to think such a gift didn’t exist.”_

_“I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean, Ma’am,” spoke up the officer._

_The Director happily answered his question, the whole time her eyes on the young girl in front of her, as if she had been the one to ask it._

_“You have the natural ability to read emotions on people, even the ones they try to hide. With training, you’ll be able to control it, stop yourself from voicing it out loud too much. It’s hard…seeing that much and not being able to talk about it. But you must, not everyone will understand, not everyone can see what you can. Even the people who have been training their entire lives.” The bitterness in the Director’s voice was not lost on her._

_“No wonder you brought her to me.” She eventually said to the officer._

_“Actually, Ma’am,” he straightened his back, “I brought her here to recommend she be put into PW when she’s fully assimilated.”_

_“What book did she choose?” She’d seen a lot of children similar to her - though nowhere near as unique - they often chose to read the same book over and over again rather than skim from one to the next. Children like her absorbed every piece of information given to them._

_The things she could do for the world…_

_“Sun Tzu, Ma’am.”_

_“The Art of War…” her voice echoed the words. “Fascinating.”_

_The old woman stared at her for a moment, before clearing her throat and straightening her back._

_“Very well, but I want her military trained as well, just as a fall back. Who knows, she could promote herself all the way to the top.”_

_At seven years old, she’s happy at the smile on the Director’s face, the faith she’s instilled in her, and she’s happy to prove she’s a cut above the rest._

At twenty-five years old, when she was awoken abruptly by a kick in the leg, she wanted to go back in time and punch her seven year old self for being so stupid. That attitude was what got her into this mess in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay, lots of things to pay credit to in this.
> 
> The whole childhood soldiers being greeted by an old lady comes from the fact my husband plays Halo non stop so there are elements in this. 
> 
> The tv series Lie To Me has inspired a lot of this, based on the work of Paul Ekman, which relies heavily on the ability to read facial expressions and it's obviously an ability I've wanted both her and Deacon to have. 
> 
> Anyone who has seen the series knows what it means to be natural but I don't think her past is something I'm going to explore too much, the idea (for me) is that she doesn't remember much of it. A fact she is quite happy with.
> 
> (If you manage to guess what her code stands for I will actually love you and officially dedicate my life to you =]) 
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	16. Bad Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper visits Billy and decides to teach Deacon a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV changes a lot. I’ve decided that when they’re together their POV’s meld together, but are separate when they’re apart. I’m testing it out so tell me if it doesn’t work. Personally I think it does, but opinions are always nice to hear.
> 
> (Chapter Tile: [Bad Girlfriend - Theory of a Deadman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=77iKmYKHu6U&list=RDMMkHicliUheO4&index=37)

_Boldness be my friend._

 

She was up early that morning, able to pick a number of reasons as to why. The fact that memories of her fucked-up childhood plagued her every time she closed her eyes that night, the fact she was used to being outside and staying cooped inside HQ was driving her nuts. Or it might have had something to do with the newly forming bruises on her legs.

She was used to people kicking in their sleep, the kids back at camp did it all the time when they were sleeping outside of the base and MacCready was a right fidget in bed but Glory was a different story. The woman really was a synth, her body full of circuitry and metal rather than blood and bones, and it was the metal in her legs that had caused the problem.

Glory, evidently, suffered from night terrors and most of the night was filled with quiet screaming and the synth thrashing about on her mattress. It was probably left over memories that the Institute hadn’t got rid of but Glory was too headstrong and proud to ever admit that it happened. So she ignored it too.

No one besides Tom was awake - though she suspected Deacon was just pretending to be asleep. She intentionally shuffled past his mattress, he gave an over exaggerated snore, tossed around on the mattress and his leg fell onto the floor in front of her.

Deacon eventually gave up feigning sleep, pretending to wake up in an over exaggerated manner - stretching his arms and yawning loudly - when she walked past.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” She asked, stopping dead next to him. _Good._ She added silently.

“What else do you expect when you go stomping around like that?” He gestured down to his feet. 

_You’re a fucking asshole._

He was lying, like always, she didn’t make a damn sound when she moved and he figured that’s what made her so deadly. She could kill him and he’d never see it coming - hell, she’d come pretty close to doing just that when they went to the Switchboard.

The first thing he did was check that his sunglasses were still safely on his face. Realising they were where they belonged, he moved to sit up. He then reached underneath his pillow to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out with his teeth whilst his free hand patted his pockets for his lighter.

“Here.”

Before he had a chance to look at her, there was an open flame in front of him and he moved forward to light the end of his cigarette.

“Thanks.” He breathed out with his first drag.

“Keep it.” She held out an open hand, the lighter laying on her palm and she didn’t move until he took it from her. “Maybe you should smoke outside.” She suggested, and convincingly too. “I’d rather not get cancer by inhaling that crap. Green radioactive goo is enough of a worry, you know?”

Whisper walked away, without a glance back at him, and was stopped by Tom, suddenly getting up from his chair.

Deacon stopped himself when he felt the urge to follow, and leap in front of her when she made a beeline for Tom.

“Have you eaten the food?” His voice echoed through HQ.

“Nooo.”

Deacon could hear her sarcasm.

Deacon knew what was coming and a few moments later, Tom was holding up the syringe. She’d obviously agreed to it because the next thing Deacon knew, Tom was injecting her with his ‘cure for Institute nano-bots’; it almost killed her. She swayed a lot but didn’t fall over, she shook her head and then laughed. It was different from her normal laugh. She wasn’t okay. But still, she continued to play along when Tom voiced his overwhelming paranoia, that much Deacon could hear.

The moment Tom stopped talking to her, Whisper rushed over to the nearest couch and practically fainted onto it.

Despite every voice telling him it was a bad idea, he was walking towards her collapsed body.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked as he sat down next to her.

“M’good,” she slurred. 

“Should have warned ya about Tom,” he stated, reaching forward to pass her a bottle of water.

She took the water he offered, looking at him questioningly as she did, wondering what his angle was.

“What the hell was in that thing?”

“No idea,” he shrugged. “No one’s brave enough to ask.”

And most people aren’t stupid enough to let Tom inject them with _anything_. Plus, anything not recommended by an actual doctor after ‘major surgery’ might actually kill her.

Later on, she would blame whatever the hell was in that syringe, but in that moment (despite _everything_ he’d done to her) she felt the overwhelming urge to thank him because she was pretty sure that Desdemona wouldn’t have given her the time of day again if Deacon hadn’t covered for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered and Deacon looked at her questionably, a eyebrow crooked above the rim of his sunglasses. “For covering for me with Desdemona.”

Her head fell onto her chest for a moment, Deacon tensed and resisted the urge to check her pulse. She groaned a little before snapping her head back.

Deciding the floor was a safer option, she slid off the couch to sit on the ground. There was a heaviness in her head and she had to rest it back against the seat cushions. She opened her eyes underneath her sunglasses and could see a sidewards Deacon looking down at her, with what she could mistake for concern on his face.

“Wanna know a secret?” He asked as he not-so-casually moved to sit on the ground with her.

He heard her dog growl as he moved, Deacon looked at him and the mutt relaxed as soon as they locked eyes. He was still sure the dog could rip his face off, but he liked to think saving his owner had earned him a few brownie points.

“Sure.” With her head still rested back, she moved to look at him, being sure to move just a little closer so no one could overhear them.

_I can smell her from here._

She smelt like fresh air, hubflowers and just the faintest hint of blood. He probably should have been repulsed by that, he wasn’t.

“Everyone thinks Dez holds the cards when it comes to the Railroad but she’s not really in charge.” He looked around the room to make sure no one was listening. “I am.”

“Seriously?” She hoped her surprise sounded genuine, that the raise of her eyebrow looked like it was there from shock.

“Why else would Dez let you into the Railroad so quickly? One word from me, and you’re in.”

He wasn’t in charge but that was essentially what happened. And Dez wonders why he keeps telling people he is.

She moved away just enough to make it look casual. “Why though? I mean, you can’t just be going on blind faith?”

He had definitely not gone into this blind. His eyes were completely open when she stepped out of that Vault and they were open the entire time he’d followed her to Diamond City.

_You are such a stalker._

“I’m not, something tells me you’re _just_ what the Railroad needs.” Even if she didn’t know it yet.

“What makes you so sure about that?” she asked, wondering if she could get the truth out of him this quickly.

Deacon thought how he could answer her without revealing too much.

“Look, sometimes there are people who catch my attention, and you just happened to be one of them.”

_When though?_ She silently asked, knowing her face didn’t show her question - not that he’d be able to see it even if it did.

“Wow, well thanks for the vote of confidence I guess,” she eventually said. 

She moved to get up, struggling a little, but was soon stood on her feet. She looked down at a still sat down Deacon and waited for him to move. He didn’t, instead he just sat there staring into nothing. 

It wasn’t just the Railroad that needed her, the whole Commonwealth did but, more importantly, so did he. And even _more_ importantly, he needed her to get him out of HQ and he was almost willing to ask her himself but a voice stopped him.

_If she wants to travel with you, she’d ask, wouldn’t she?_

She didn’t seem like the type to ask for anything, especially help and especially when she needed it. He suspected that she wasn’t alone as she appeared, the dog was always with her, but he imagined that just outside the door via the escape tunnel, her mercenary lover-boy was waiting for her.

_You sound like you’re a little jealous there._

_Get a fucking grip on yourself, will you? How many years have you been on this planet? How many women have you let do this to you?_

One. And he was not going to think about that particular woman right now.

He’d gone through a lot of trouble to erase everything he was before the Railroad. It was easier for him to be a liar than let people know what sort of people he really was.

_Piece of shit._

Maybe it was a bad idea to travel with her, she’d just become another name on the list of people he screwed over. 

He shook away the voices but before he could find the courage to speak, Whisper walked off and left him alone on the floor.

He failed to notice that she was silently laughing as she walked though the tunnel.

She’d managed to convince him that she believed he was in charge of the Railroad. Yes, Desdemona pretty much did let her in on his word but the person in charge of the Railroad would have a passcode to the terminal back at the Switchboard! His lies were unravelling already. Piper had referred to him as the ‘Commonwealth’s greatest liar’…Well not anymore. Deacon had no idea who he was dealing with.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, breathing heavy, and she knew she’d never felt it like this before without having to fight for her life.

_I wish RJ was here._

Deacon was up on his feet the second the door closed. He went over to her mattress, Glory was still sound asleep on hers, and shuffled himself down against the wall. He leant down, close to her ear.

"Morning!"

“For fuck sake!” Glory screamed and punched him in the arm. “Stop doing that!”

“So…” He continued casually, ignoring the pain in his arm. “You girls stay up all night swapping boy stories?”

“Oh yeah, we played spin the bottle and talked about who was the cutest agent in the Railroad.” She replied sarcastically as she sat up next to him. “We both agreed it’s Drummer Boy, though P.A.M does have a certain appeal.”

Deacon put his hand on his chest and opened his mouth wide.

“I’m offended.” He joked.

Glory didn’t say anything, she just looked at him with her eyebrow raised. As if she could see the question written on his face

“I’m not your fucking lapdog, Deacon, you wanna know something, ask her.”

After so many years together, Glory could read more than he was comfortable with.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Not all that interested in her to be honest.”

“Fuckin’ liar.” She punched him in the arm again.

_ Same spot every damn time. _

“Tell ya what though, I wouldn’t mind travelling with that girl. Bet she kicks fucking ass when she’s in a fight. Maybe I’ll ask her if I can tag along…I mean, one of us should have the balls to do that, right?”

Yep, he’d definitely spent too much time with Glory. She was the only one who knew what buttons to push. She was like his conscience, forcing him to face the facts he just wanted to ignore.

* * * *

_Deacon is such an enigma…_

Dogmeat had already successfully killed the Raider patrolling on foot. She shot the one guarding the door had stopped him from retaliating. Though her gunshot hadn’t made a noise, between Dogmeat’s barking and the amounting corpses, it had been enough to alert all the others.

_On the one hand_ \- She shot the one guarding the door to stop him from retaliating - _he was pretty quick to check on me…_

She signalled for Dogmeat to hide close by whilst she crouched on the ground in front of the door, went invisible, and waited for it to open.

_Then he did_ _that_ _._

They were taking what she thought would be a detour towards Goodneighbor, an _extremely long_ detour. Long enough to steady her breathing.

She didn't waste the extra hours she'd been given from being woken up, she decided to finally make good on her promise to Billy and visit him at least once, and the longer she spent stuck in HQ doing nothing, the quicker she was going insane. She almost felt the urge to run to Castle and take ‘real’ command of the Minutemen. 

The sun was beginning to rise when she reached the familiar path and she stopped in her tracks when she turned the corner. Dogmeat alerted her to it first.

The big (dead) oak tree that grew out of the ground was half a mile away from Billy’s house and Bullet’s body was hanging by a rope from one of the trunks.

_Half a mile away from Billy’s house_ … _If he’s seen this…_

It was timid in comparison to what she had really wanted to do that day but she hadn’t done this. She was certain MacCready hadn’t either. Then she reached a conclusion.

_Deacon._

He _had_ been there. He was the reason Travis was blaring their name across the Commonwealth, the reason she had to threaten him into stopping - though that wasn’t exactly hard. Travis, though a little more confident, was still a pushover. 

“Alice!” That beautiful voice pulled her back to reality and she smiled at the sound of it.

Billy came running towards her, arms outstretched, but stopped abruptly when he came to a large rock at the side, before he’d even reached her.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked as she bent down to hug him.

“Dad says I’m not allowed to go any further than this line.” He explained as he took hold of her hand and walked her back towards the house. “At least for now anyway.”

That meant Matt had seen it, and she really hoped he didn’t think it had been her.

“So, got stuck in anymore fridges lately?” She joked, roughing his head.

“Nope. Just the one.” His free hand tried to fend her off. They both laughed.

Carol wrapped her arms around her the second she was through the door.

“Welcome home.” She smiled; they both did.

The house really was the first place she considered home. She missed how welcome she felt there, and how much the love oozed out of the walls. Even after two-hundred years.

“Is Matt around?”

“He’s upstairs," croaked Carol. She could read in her eyes that she knew about the tree too.

Out of respect, she removed the garments on her head, folded them neatly on the dresser, and walked up the stairs.

“Matt?” She called softly as she tapped on the bedroom door.

The door swung open and Matt was quick to embrace her. Like a father would a daughter. She smiled at the feeling.

“It wasn’t me.” Her voice strained as her neck stretched over his shoulder.

“I know.” He stated, breaking the hug.

He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

“We’ve always known what your job was when you came here. But you get to know someone after spending a few years with ‘em. Not even you’re that heartless.”

_I wish that were true_.

She’d done terrible things, unforgivable acts since she could hold a gun and use a knife efficiently. Her looks always did make her look softer than she actually was. Neither Matt or Carol knew how many people she’d killed whilst protecting them, they’d finally made a home here and she didn’t want to move them again; it was easier for her just to kill anyone that got close. What they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them.

They walked down the stairs together, discussing how quiet life was since they were reunited with Billy.

“No one’s tried to buy Billy, so you could say it’s been okay.” Matt joked.

“Where is Billy?” She was quick to ask when she realised she couldn’t see him and she knew he hadn’t gone upstairs.

“He’s in the garden," explained Carol.

She sighed. What was once a lush green garden, with beautiful flowers that backed onto a small stream was now a radioactive swamp. She knew it didn’t really matter, Billy was a ghoul - it wasn’t as though sloshing around in radioactive water was going to make him even more of a ghoul - but old habits die hard and she couldn’t help but worry about him.

She’d have to call it a favour, possibly two, in order to get some materials sent here…maybe build a decking for him to play on instead. Find a few toys for him to play with, there were lots of toys in Shaun’s room back in Sanctuary, but Billy was probably a little too old to play with them. They did always play chess together, back in the day.

She’d need to send word to Sam, he would organise everything with absolute perfection. Not that she expected anything less from the man who convinced her going into a Vault was a good idea, he was right in a way.

Billy was really happy to see her, and she was him. But he was bored, it wasn’t like there were other kids around .

“And mom and dad get real boring, real quick.” He whispered in her ear across the kitchen table.

“I’ll tell you what,” she whispered back in his ear, “you ask your mom and dad if it’s okay and maybe I’ll take you out to see the world one day.”

She eyed the time on her Pip-Boy and groaned.

“I have to go.” She announced, disappointed, as she stood up from the table.

They hugged tightly, Billy’s nose hit her the groove in her neck; he was getting taller. Or she was getting smaller.

Her face dropped the moment she left the house. Deacon was lucky she wasn’t planning to run back there and kill him. But she had to kill something.

”You can run but you can’t hide, bitch!” screamed one of the raiders behind the closed door.

Evidently it would be a group of Raiders taking refuge in an alleyway she would have once seen as a shortcut.

“Where the hell are you?” exclaimed the masked Raider, two more were trailing behind him, another following close and one more stood inside the makeshift shack. The cryomine she’d placed just outside the door worked perfectly, freezing three of them in place. The last Raider on the ground was still running around trying to find her, the one at the higher vantage point looking in her direction, though they couldn’t see her.

She knew that the second she moved, they’d see her, so she wasted no time in raising her pistol and aiming it at the Raider furthest away.

“There you are!” The Raider came running towards her, tire iron in hand, and was knocked down by Dogmeat when he decided to come out of his hiding place. He had a large section of his trousers, and part of his leg, trapped between his teeth and the Raider screamed and tried to scramble away.

One last gun shot and silence fell.

She breathed steadily through her nose and took in her surroundings. Dogmeat was by her heels by the time she started moving.

“Some detour, eh, boy?” 

Considering the Railroad had nothing new to give her, for the time being at least, she spent most of her time walking aimlessly around Boston District - shooting at anything that shot at her. She was taking a shortcut she had remembered back from the old days. It was Dogmeat’s fault, he was just so happy to have found an enemy that he alerted a small Raider gang that had made their home amongst the alleyway.

It was small, out of the way and would need new defences, considering she’d shot down the only turret. It wouldn’t do well as a settlement, not for the Minutemen anyway. It was far too small to house a decent number of people and it was too close to the action; they’d been sending for help almost every day. But it seemed like a waste to leave it as nothing.

After about five minutes, she came to a decision.

She’d been meaning to end up in Goodneighbor eventually, now she could send Sam two letters and check in with Daisy. Maybe ask her if she’d received news about Duncan, if MacCready had stopped by.

_I’ve really got to go back to Sanctuary._

At least one caravan and Minutemen route came through Goodneighbor, as well as Diamond City, and they’d deliver their General’s message with the utmost care. The Minutemen were doing well and, if Radio Freedom was anything to go by, everything was quiet. It would be for Sam’s eyes only, he liked her so she trusted him to do as she asked and give the caravan extra caps to keep their silence. 

People obsessed over them, being around MacCready had taught her that much, but she still couldn’t see the appeal. Except for the few caps she had to spend when staying the night at the Dugout or the Rexford, she barely had to spend anything, most people just gave her stuff.

She secured it as best she could and hoped it would be left undisturbed until she got word to Sam to send a caravan there. Just one. And no Minutemen. She didn’t want Preston to know about the place because he’d be asking her to set up a recruitment beacon and she wanted one place outside that she could call her own. With enough effort, she could have her own little sanctuary away from Sanctuary. Away from everything and everyone. Okay, yes, her treehouse back in Sanctuary was meant to be that, but this place was out in the world. She belonged in the real world more, there was a chance she was going soft. She scoffed at the thought, it was unlikely.

Dogmeat tilted his head and look at her in curiosity as one by one, she dragged the corpses into a pile. She grabbed the nearby half-empty gas tank near the door and poured the contents on the decaying flesh.

She took a silver lighter out of her pocket, thankfully she picked up things without even thinking, and whistled for Dogmeat to follow her as she turned away and flicked the lighter to life. She tossed it behind her and her lungs filled with the smell of burning flesh before she got around the corner.

The second they stepped through the gates of Goodneighbor Dogmeat went running off.

“Okay, so I’ll just wait here until you’re done, shall I?” She shouted after him. She laughed when he barked in response, as if he actually understood what she said.

She was being dragged into a hug before she even turned around. She knew who it was before she was released.

“Daisy.” She bowed her head slightly.

“Sunshine,” she smiled. “It’s nice to see you come into Goodneighbor uninjured.” She added pointedly.

That set the guilt in, Daisy always acted like an overprotective parent around her. Not that she couldn’t blame her, that was twice she’d walked into Goodneighbor looking like shit now.

“I’m okay. In one piece.” She gestured down her body as proof.

Two legs, two arms, one head. She was good.

“Has RJ been around?” She asked hopefully as Daisy dragged her into the shop.

“Yep. Walked through the gate the day after you left. He asked about you too.” She smiled knowingly. “Wanted me to give this to you.”

She reached over the counter and pulled out a brown package.

“A present from your, and I quote, ‘robot butler because he misses you’.”

She silently took the package.

“Any news about Duncan?”

It had been at least two months since she and MacCready sent the cure to the Capital, there had to be something by now.

She sunk into the comfortable seat and carefully ripped apart the brown material. Long black strands of hair fell onto her fingers. Codsworth had made her a new wig, in the same style her hair had been before she went running to the Vault. MacCready must have told him how annoyed she was that it had changed.

She smiled at the note written in MacCready’s handwriting.

_So Daisy tells me you left yesterday, kinda sorry I didn’t get here sooner._

_She also told me about the state you found yourself in. Didn’t think you’d be_ _that_ _lost without me._

_It’s okay, I miss you too._

Daisy breathed a laugh and shook her head. Obviously MacCready had asked the same question too.

“Last word I got was just under a week ago. The kid seems to be responding to the treatment well enough. He’s still a little weak but the purple boils have all but disappeared.”

Relief washed over her. The trip to Med-Tec hadn't been a complete waste of time after all. A few more months of recovery and maybe he’d been well enough to travel, or maybe she’d go get him herself.

Daisy was looking at her, eyes scanning over a face she couldn’t see.

“Robert was thinking the same thing.”

Daisy was the only person who could see through all the crap that covered her face.

“If you’re going to go to the Capital, would you at least wait for my caravan to come back? So they make sure you get there safely.” She pleaded. Like a mother watching her child go on vacation alone for the first time.

Daisy always looked at her like she was made of glass, too fragile for a world this harsh. Daisy had no idea what she’d gone through in her life, not really. The last word she’d use to describe herself was ‘fragile’.

“How’s Kent been doing lately?”

“Better.” Daisy’s voice wasn’t as enthusiastic as she would have liked. “If the Silver Shroud paid him a visit, that would put a smile on his face.”

She caught the not-so-sly hint and stood up.

“I need you to take these,” she held out two envelopes for Daisy to take.

“‘For Sam’s eyes only’” She read on the front. “How is that silly man doing?”

“Better. He’s working with the Minutemen, I think it helps keep him distracted.”

“You couldn’t do me a favour when you leave, could you?” She asked, moving around her desk.

She was a little surprised, Daisy never asked anything from her before.

A few things knocked around on the shelves before Daisy slammed down an old book onto the counter.

“It’s a little silly, I know, but I got this book out of Boston Library over two-hundred years ago now. It’s about time it went back.”

Boston Library…it had been literally centuries since she’d read a good book. There was only so many times she could read the same comic books. No matter how many she collected, she was usually finished with them within a few hours.

“Sure thing, Daisy.” She put the book in her pack and hugged the woman "No doubt they've been looking everywhere for this.”

Daisy’s laugh rang through her as she walked out the door.

The streets of Goodneighbor were quiet, she suspected that most of them were in the Third Rail, getting drunk, or in the Memory Den, reliving the lives they missed.

When she neared the Old State House she looked up at the balcony, Hancock was leant over the railing, his eyes fixated on her.

“I’m not injured!” She shouted up and she heard him laugh.

Harvey was stood at the door, Felix on the other side. They nodded their heads at her and then, together, opened the doors, like she was a Queen coming back to her palace.

“Here to continue our game?” Fahrenheit was sat on the stool by the bottom of the stairs.

Much like she had planned for Deacon, she and Fahrenheit were playing a game of wits. They were just playing chess at the same time.

“You ever play chess? Sometimes you have to sacrifice a piece to keep the game going." The first thing Fahrenheit had said to her.

It was every bit the threat she tried to make it sound. Fahrenheit was wary of her from the beginning. Maybe, as his bodyguard, she didn’t trust Hancock to make friends with the right people…The woman had a point, Hancock had made some terrible choices over his lifetime.

It wasn’t about the game, or what they even said to each other. It was about everything they weren’t saying.

“A good chess player thinks three moves ahead.” _I already know what you want._

“A great chess player thinks one move ahead. But it’s always the right one.” _No, you don’t._

Hancock had gotten sick of their ‘bitchy attitudes’ and their ‘fighting over him’ and pretty much left them to it. It was going to be a bloodbath when they finally finished because one of them was going to win, which meant the other one was going to lose. And neither of them liked losing.

The pieces on the board hadn’t moved since she was last there, she was closer to Fahrenheit’s king than she was to hers.

“It’s all about strategy, getting inside someone’s head without them realising.” Fahrenheit commented as she took away her pawn piece.

“What if you want them to realise?” She retorted, moving her knight.

“Then you’d better make sure you know more about them than they do about you.”

She was just hoping Deacon didn't know as much about her as she feared.

“Have you got a spare board? I need it for someone.”

Fahrenheit grunted and stood up. She returned to her seat a few minutes later with a board under her arm.

“Be careful with it.” She stated as she passed it to her. “It’s over two-hundred years old.”

“What isn’t these days?”

Hancock laughed from his desk. Both women looked up to scowl at him.

“You know, that look doesn’t have the same effect when you’ve got all that shit on your face.” He commented, his attention entirely on her. Like it always was. “We’ve already seen your face, Sunshine. Not much else can surprise me.”

He went to remove her sunglasses and she slapped his hand away.

“Try that again and I swear I will cut your dick off,” she threatened, meaning every word.  No one took her sunglasses off her face except her, and even she hated doing it.

Hancock laughed.

“So, how are things with the Railroad?” Hancock asked, pulling her up from the chair and wrapping an arm around her waist.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the look on Fahrenheit’s face, she was angry. Angry at her or Hancock, she wasn’t sure, but the bodyguard was definitely upset about something. Was that jealousy she saw in her eyes? She’d never experienced that emotion before…Why on earth would Fahrenheit be jealous?

“Painfully slow,” she sat down on the couch next to him.

She happily took the Jet canister he held out for her.

They talked about the Railroad for a while, Hancock giving her what little advice he could offer.

“John? Who is Deacon exactly?”

He almost chocked on the mentat in his mouth. She really knew how to pick her moments.

If he’s learnt one think about Sunshine, it's that she liked to have the upper hand, but there was no chem in the world that could make him tell her the unspoken fact that Deacon helped her get to Goodneighbor in the first place.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Sunshine.”

She found it hard to believe that Hancock would let someone spend so much time hanging out in Goodneighbor without knowing anything about them.

She took off her hat, let the white curls of her hair brush against her shoulders, took off her bandana and sighed before removing her sunglasses. Hancock winked at her.

_Manipulative bastard._

“He works for the Railroad, but obviously you know that. Late thirties, early forties; never really asked. He used to be married apparently, doesn’t like to talk about it much. Didn’t end well, then again when does anything in this world?” He added with a bitter laugh.

“And you just _let_ him run around Goodneighbor pretending to be a drifter?”

“He’s usually workin’ undercover, on a mission for the Railroad. There could be Institute spies anywhere; right under our noses.” He spoke low, as if the Institute had bugged the room in which they were sat. “Besides, as long as they’re not causing trouble; people can do what they want here.”

“Of the people, for the people. I know.”

“Ya know, with everything that happened with Kent, I never really got a chance to thank you for clearing the streets of miscreants.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I did that. The whole town would be empty, and you certainly wouldn’t be here.” She laughed and winked at him.

Hancock’s eyes hadn’t left her but she was a bit more comfortable about it this time. For one thing, this time it had been her decision and, like he said, he’d seen it before. Also, she liked the way he looked at her, not like some dirty man looking at a pretty woman, more like a priest seeing God for the first time. Hancock was the safest thing in her life, she trusted him to protect her. He always did.

She spent a few hours on the couch talking to Hancock. They still flirted, a lot, and he was always fun to talk to. Daisy was too sentimental sometimes, and Hancock’s stories were definitely a lot more colourful than hers. At some point in his life, Hancock must have had every STD that ever existed, and he had absolutely no shame in talking about their side effects.

A loud bark came from the streets below, just in time, because Hancock was talking about the time his balls almost fell off and she was about to throw up.

“That’s my cue.” She smiled and stood up.

She mocked saluted Fahrenheit and couldn’t help but smile when the woman laughed. She hugged her Mayor tightly and redressed her face before leaving.

Dogmeat was still barking frantically as she descended the stairs.

“Okay, okay! I’m here,” she shouted when she saw him. He panted and bounced in a circle a few times. She spotted something pink in his mouth. “What have you got there?”

She reached out but Dogmeat quickly turned his head away from her.

“Drop it,” she commanded and he turned back to face her before letting the small object fall out of his mouth.

A small pink ball bounced on the ground a few times. Dogmeat whined when she picked it up.

“I’m going to look after this," she delicately told him as she put it in her pocket. “Just so you don’t choke on it.”

He licked her wrist affectionately when she moved her hand to stroke the top of his head.

“Let’s just hope Desdemona has a mission for us.”

He barked playfully. Maybe he did understand her after all.

* * * *

Deacon was sure he wasn’t imagining it, she seemed to be getting to know every single one of them…except him. What the hell was her problem?

Whisper had been with the Railroad non-stop for three days now, even after finishing every minuscule task handed to her, and she was still running in and out, Desdemona convinced she was on Minutemen business but Deacon wasn’t so easily manipulated.

“You’re Drummer Boy, right?”

“Listen lady, I know you’re new here but we’re not friends, you understand?”

“Perfectly, I just..wanted to introduce myself.” 

Drummer Boy felt guilty at the sadness in her voice, he said so himself - she was new.

“Listen, sorry to sound so…Forget it. Yeah, I’m Drummer Boy and you’re Whisper, right?”

She nodded and Deacon watched from afar as they moved to sit on the couch and proceeded to have a conversation. An actual conversation. That kid never spoke to anyone, not more than he had to anyway. But there he was - Deacon couldn’t hear what they were saying over Tom chatting in his ear - Drummer Boy’s lips moving up and down constantly, forming words…sentences even. The kid was actually telling Whisper everything about him…over seven years in the Railroad together and he had told Deacon absolutely nothing, he didn’t tell anyone anything. But five minutes with Whisper and Drummer Boy was baring his entire life.

“That must have been really hard.” She commented sincerely when their conversation had taken a dark turn. Her hand rested affectionately on Drummer Boy’s arm and her thumb stroked his bicep.

Whisper knew exactly what to say, how to say it and what to do with her body.

_Damn. She’s good._

It narrowly crossed the line between talking and flirting. And she barely said anything, of course she talked a lot but nothing she said was real. It was idle chitchat that slowly, subconsciously, pushed someone to tell her everything about themselves. Deacon knew this because he wanted to tell her everything about himself too but he had resisted. It was in her voice, soft, warm…inviting. The way she leant her entire body towards you when you were talking, as if she was actually interested in your life. He only knew this from the outside of course, because she barely acknowledged him.

Every time she stepped foot inside HQ, Deacon was there. He was always there. Leaning against the same wall, wearing the same posture, the ever increasing pile of cigarettes around him. At first she wondered if it was just coincidence, or him staggering their entrances. Then she realised, given the disheveled look of him on day four, he hadn’t left HQ for some time. She almost found herself feeling sorry for him, but he’d spent a lot of time outside. Most of it spent following her apparently.

Deacon was watching her (of course he was), she seemed happy every time she talked to someone who went by but as soon as they were gone she looked almost,  _defensive_. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, her head twitching from side to side as if she was scanning every agent in the room - which she probably was, Deacon also did that. Inside her wrapped arms, her fists were clenched, she didn’t ooze sadness, didn’t look so upset that the rest of them would notice, but Deacon did.

“And where have you been all day?” He asked when he was close.

She looked up from the floor. “Oh, hey, boss.” She said a little louder than necessary. 

Out of his peripheral, he caught Dez's glare, but the real boss shook it off and went back to the folder…that never left her hand. And he knew this because he’s been stuck down here for over a fortnight; it wasn’t natural for him to be locked up for this long.

“I just went to Goodneighbor, that’s all.”

The dog between her feet perked up at the town’s name and whined a little. Whisper responded by shushing him and affectionately scratching the top of his head, moving around to scratch under his chin.

“And what does a nice girl like you need in Goodneighbor?”

“Who said anything about nice? The Mayor’s a friend and I needed a favour from him.”

“So, why do you look so blue?” He’d tried to casually ask.

Had his use of the word blue been intentional?

“I’m worried about this drifter in Goodneighbor.”

There it was, a small twitch at the rim of his sunglasses. A micro expression of fear. And she loved watching his Adam’s apple move in his throat, it was like a cork caught in a storm. It seemed so obvious to her, was she really the only one who could see it?

“I think something may have happened to him. Hancock just shrugs it off and tells me ‘people come and go from Goodneighbor all the time’ but I really think something’s wrong, ” she remained silent, in fake sadness, for a few seconds. “There’s something I need to give him.”

_She knows. Hancock sold me out and now she fucking knows. I am so screwed._

“Anyway.” Her voice cheerier, as if she hadn’t said anything. “How are you?”

“I-I’m fine.”

She could feel the heat rising in her chest as she watched him crumble. She was finding his sunglasses pointless already.

“Are you sure? You don’t _look_ fine.”

His eyebrows shot up above his sunglasses and she forced her body not to shake as she resisted the urge to laugh. Dogmeat barked, right on cue, and Deacon almost jumped out of his skin.

_This is too easy._

Dogmeat liked Deacon just fine. Deacon just didn’t know that. She only meant it as a joke, but maybe it didn’t sound like one. She thought he’d be used to her sense of humour given how she put a knife to his throat but apparently not. MacCready was always telling her that her sense of humour was an ‘acquired taste’ sometimes.

She really needed to go see him.

But Deacon actually believed her. Quicker than ever, she realised. There were a lot of German phrases she knew that were about killing but she really doubted Dogmeat would understand any of them.

_Maybe I should actually teach him that._

Deacon was a lot like Dogmeat, she thought. Putting aside the fact they were different species, they were both cautious, a little too old to fight but too young to be locked away. She suspected that when she finally did ask him to tag along, he’d be like how Dogmeat had been and run off a few times. But she wasn’t going to ask him yet, just a little while longer.

She watched as he stuttered a few words, resisted the urge to let his hand play with the back of his neck.

“Well, see ya.” 

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it, slapped a hand on his shoulder and walked away.

She stifled a laugh when she was out of ear shot because she knew the sound would echo throughout the whole place. She still remembered how much he ran his mouth on their way to the Switchboard, how he was almost desperate to fill the silence - she knew what that was like - but he was at a loss for words ever since she’d come back into HQ. She forgot the rush it gave her, she’d been too honest with MacCready but Deacon wasn’t him.

Hancock’s voice was in the back of her head

_‘Might as well have some fun with ‘em.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your continued support. I literally jump for joy every time. I love you all!


	17. Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commonwealth’s greatest liars playing a game of wits…What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still dedicated to every single one of you, thank you for making me realise I’m actually doing a good job. You guys are awesome!
> 
> More of Deacon's crazy voices in this.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Whispers in the Dark - Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B58OBfM-8A4))

_Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself_

 

Deacon was up early that morning, not that it was much of a shock, he was usually the first one up anyway - unless Tom had a breakthrough in the middle of the night, which was more of a regular occurrence than not.

What woke him up on this particular evening was a voice. A voice speaking softly in his ear and it was so vivid he half expected to wake up with her stood over him. She wasn’t. He shifted his body and cranked his neck…Whisper was still asleep in the tunnel. At least he’s sure it’s Whisper from this angle.

_This is what she does_ , he reminded himself. This was how she got Drummer Boy to open up about _everything_. It was in her tone, in her voice - in everything she did. She sucked you in, made you talk about everything that ever happened to you until you couldn’t imagine her not being in your life.

Whisper had been with the Railroad non-stop for a week now, been sleeping in the place for just over half of that time and every morning Deacon found himself waking up and scanning the room. Checking everyone was still accounted for and everyone was still alive.

It had occurred to him, after he’d seen her and Drummer Boy talk for the first time, that everything about her was too perfect. There had to be a catch. Right now he’s on the ‘she could be an Institute plant’ notion and has brought it upon himself to keep everyone safe.

_Everyone would be a hell of a lot safer if I can get her out of HQ._

_Why does she need you? She’s perfectly capable of getting out of her on her own._

_She’s proven that already._

Deacon’s eyes were on her as she was coming through the tunnel.

_Case and point._

The voices and his body froze when he noticed Whisper starting to walk towards him, his eyes glued ahead of him when she eventually sat down on his mattress. He didn’t look straightaway but he knew her head was already resting casually on her hand, her elbow bent against the desk he used as a protective wall. Her entire body facing him.

She bent her knees, lifted her legs onto the mattress and he desperately hid a shiver when her knees brushed against his thigh. He knew it was intentional - everything she did was.

“Good morning boss!” She shouted loud enough for the words to echo off the wall and Deacon was just thankful Dez was still asleep. 

Whisper had to be doing it on purpose.

It had been a few days since she’d last spoken to him, still claiming to Dez she was running in and out on Minutemen business. Her mercenary boyfriend hadn’t stepped foot inside yet and Deacon was wondering if she was intentionally keeping him away from the place.

A ‘rookie’ bringing in a complete stranger wouldn’t end well. Especially for him because, for Deacon, MacCready wasn’t a stranger at all.

It had been over a decade ago, back in the Capital Wasteland when Deacon had stumbled across Little Lamplight. Of course his name wasn’t Deacon back then, and he had a different face but he remembers the kid. Recognises his name when word reaches him there’s a new guy in town and Deacon still remembers the moment the young mercenary is seen working for the Gunners for the first time.

“I swear we’ve met before.” She pulled him back to reality with _that_ voice. The voice that made him want to bare himself naked in front of her. The voice that made him want to rip off his sunglasses and let her see his life in his eyes.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_

The lighter had relaxed him a little, people always do calm down when you give them something. Especially if it’s useful, Deacon was no exception. He smoked, a lot, it was worrying to see the pile of cigarette butts pool around his feet. Hancock was, amongst other things, a smoker. So was MacCready, apparently, because in the four months she spent with him she didn’t see him smoke once but he always commented about ‘dying for one’ and he smelt of smoke all the time.

“You look so familiar to me.” She watched him try not to tense at her words. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?”

“I guess I’ve just got one of those faces.” He actually sounded natural that time. He was getting better at this. _In fact, I’ve got dozens of faces._

“Have you ever been to Concord?” She started with a place she knew he hadn’t been. Or at least she was sure he hadn’t been there.

“Nope.” He said so quickly. His voice filled with relief.

She was right, he hadn’t been there. But now she knew what he looked, and sounded, like when he was telling the truth.

“How about Diamond City?”

Eyebrows shot above his sunglasses before quickly retreating. She pretended not to see it, just like she pretended not to be laughing.

“Can’t-can’t say I have.”

_Commonwealth’s greatest liar. Seriously?_ Codsworth could lie better than Deacon. Give him his due, Deacon was good. She was just a hell of a lot better. Maybe it was an age thing, he was older than her, maybe his reflexes weren’t what they used to be. Or maybe it was just because he hadn’t left this place in a very long time, he was still a wild animal in a cage.

She gave a smile he couldn’t see.

An old pair of sunglasses and a two-century old bandana…the greatest investment of her life. She could hide her emotions easily enough but sometimes it was difficult to stop a smile creeping up every now and then.

“Really? Okay.” She acted like she believed him.

It was important, for both of them, that he believe her. He had to learn to trust her, because she was determined to gain the upper hand. Break them down, tear away their armour, build them up again. Mould them.

“Huh! Maybe the Institute have made a copy of you?”

She tried to sound as crazy as Tom, he was an example of what having an important job could do to a person. She’d seen a lot of agents go that way, lose their minds, given their job it wasn’t difficult to get lost in the lies and paranoia. You needed to be strong; she was strong.

“What if one day you run into yourself? Just on the road. What the hell would you do?”

All part of the plan, steer the conversation. Relax him into a fantasy world, let his imagination take over for a second. Little things came out when people did that.

“Well if I met myself I already know what I’d be thinking. We’d both be stood there, rifles raised, accusing the other of being an Institute synth.” He shrugged.

She was a little disappointed, maybe he wasn’t as imaginative as she thought, it was a little more logical than she’d been expecting. She still remembered the way he yelled Shakespeare quotes whilst fighting. It was interesting, no one else besides Daisy knew the works of Shakespeare, and Daisy was a ghoul.

There were a lot of books in the library back at base, most of them about fighting. Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was a big hit, there was a lot of poetry chucked between the ‘how to clean you gun’s and the ‘kill before you’re killed’s and it was Shakespeare that caught her eye from a young age. He too spoke of War, it was just a little more eloquently stated, it soothed her during those nights the other kid cried themselves to sleep, because they had no parents to hold them when they were scared. She silently shook off the thought, she really needed to get out of HQ.

“You need someone there.” She said almost suggestively. “To verify who the real ‘Deacon’ is. Just for classification purposes obviously.”

He didn’t look so tense anymore, and he begun to finally turn and face her.

“Well, see ya!” She jumped from the mattress and headed to the door.

“Headin’ out boss?” Asked a nervous Tom.

Though, in his defence, everything Tom said sounded nervous, everything about him screamed paranoia. She learnt that when he tried to kill her, with whatever was in that syringe. She made a point of seeing Amari before she left Goodneighbor. The doctor tutted, told her she was reckless but otherwise fine.

“I got a message through on my Pip-Boy. When Desdemona wakes up, tell her I went to a nearby settlement. I should be back this afternoon.” She added with a sly readjustment of her wig.

“You got it boss!”He saluted.

_Settlement my ass._ Deacon was up on his feet and heading towards her mattress once more.

He sat down close to a sleeping Glory but when he went to move down next to her ear he was stopped by a gun being pressed to his forehead.

“Say it now bitch,” said Glory in a voice so serious that for a second Deacon believed she was going to pull the trigger.

“Jeez, what crawled up your robotic ass this morning?” He joked once he recomposed himself.

“You did.” She replied sternly.

“Uh, phrasing?” He literally couldn’t help himself, the rush that always flows through him is worth getting punched in the face.

“Did you see how quickly she got Drummer Boy to talk?” He was quick to change the conversation topic.

Glory sighed in frustration. “Still riding that train, huh?” Her and Deacon went back a long way, had gone through a lot of shit together and she couldn’t help but feel just _a little_ sorry for him.

“Look D. you ever figure that she’s getting to know _everyone else_ on purpose?”

“What did I do?” He asked defensively, his hand splayed out on his chest.

“I dunno D. what _did_ you do?” 

The raise of her eyebrow made Deacon think, for a moment, that Whisper had figured everything out and told Glory. This was Glory picking a side.

_Goddamn it._

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask her myself.”

“Yeah okay, and right after that you’re gonna shit gold,” retorted Glory as he walked away.

Deacon, confused, laid his head back down on the straw pillow and found himself wishing he had a blanket when a breeze swept through the war room. The pillow under his head was weak and he pushed his hands under it to give the thing some leverage and his fingers tapped against something solid. He traced his thumb and index finger along its edges and took a gentle grasp of the object, pulling it out from underneath his pillow.

He rolled onto his back and held his hand in the air, in the faint light HQ had to offer he saw it was a holotape, a dirty white label across the front. He moved it further into the light. His balls tightened, practically hitting his stomach and he froze.

_Join The Railroad._

It was the exact holotape he dropped in Goodneighbor, the one he saw her pick up. Whisper hadn’t left his sight for more than two seconds, when the hell did she put it there…

So that was why she sat down next to him. _Damn she_ _is_ _good_.

She had definitely screwing with him and good lord was it working. But now he knew. He knew exactly what she’d been doing this whole time, why she was spending more time in HQ, why she was making a point to get to know everyone except him. Everything she did and said was intentional; she was playing with him. Whisper was still young, she had a lot to learn because now, with this little stunt, she’d got a little too big for her boots, she was just showing off with the holotape and now it was his turn to knock her down a few pegs.

He cackled like a maniac in his head as his mind went into overdrive…thinking of all the different ways he could screw with her.

_Game on Whisper._

Whisper had no idea who she was dealing with, people didn’t call him the Commonwealth’s greatest liar for nothing.

When he was sure Glory had fallen back asleep he crept back into the tunnel and made his way to the escape door. He needed to think, needed to plan, but more than anything he needed some fucking fresh air because HQ was starting to suffocate him.

It had been a while since he went through the escape tunnel, the place never changed. Until Whisper had been using it.

He was used to hearing the old light squeak as it swung above his head, but now it just hung from the ceiling without moving an inch. There were oil lanterns lined on the walls and the two toxic waste barrels that were forever keeping the water contaminated had been removed. Whisper was cleaning up the Railroad…in more ways than one.

He never really gave much thought about what was behind the locked gate, he peered in the first time and couldn’t see anything of value so he’d just moved past it. But there was a large trunk inside it now.

When the hell had she dragged that in here?

_Maybe it’s got her plans for when she kills you all._

There was a new lock on the gate, a lock he’d never seen before but he knew it was worth a shot. A light sheen had spread over his face, he’d broken a lot of bobby pins and spent a whole five minutes grunting in frustration before he finally picked the damn thing open.

The steamer trunk was even more complicated to open.

For God sake, he wasn’t that old, his skills couldn’t have suffered that much. But Whisper was young, probably about twenty years younger than him, and she definitely had a better skill set than him. That was difficult for him to admit, even to himself.

He was down to his last pin by the time he got it open. The trunk was a little big, considering she only had leathers and tank top in it. He’d seen her get changed once before, back on her first day in the Commonwealth but a lump formed in his throat at the idea of her being half-naked just a few metres away from the war room.

He cleared the thought from his head when his eyes fell on the red hair that sat underneath her clothes. So she definitely wore a wig whilst in HQ…

And the nasty, childish thought came into his head.

Deacon wasn’t stealing it, not really, he was just…misplacing it. Putting it somewhere so that when she came back to put it on, she’d panic a little when she’d realise it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It was a start. And it’d definitely teach her for messing with him.

As he hid the wig behind the old computing system he wondered how long they were going to play this game. He’d played chess with Hancock before…he was nothing if not patient. And he was going to wait until she gave in first.

She knew about him, that much she’d proven already. She knew he was at Diamond City and she recognised him from Goodneighbor. He’d become complacent, too relaxed and his costumes were getting lazy. He berated himself; he was better than that.

 

* * * *

 

She hadn’t technically hadn’t been lying, okay yes the whole ‘message on her Pip-Boy’ had been total bull but she really was checking in on a settlement. Just not one that was affiliated with the Minutemen, or had people living in it.

She knew word would reach Sam eventually, there was no real reason for her to check in on it, other than to make sure no more Raiders had moved in to ambush the caravan went it arrived. Upon discovering it the first time she had approached from the south, and decided this time to go through the locked door she’d previously ignored.

As soon as her and Dogmeat turned the corner she spotted the burnt corpse hanging from the lamppost.

“Seriously? Are these things just following me?” she muttered, Dogmeat made a noise that caused her eyebrow to shoot up past her sunglasses. “I swear, if you actually respond to me in english one of these days I’m going to quit chems for good.”

He laughed. He _actually_ laughed and she knew it was time for her to get some human company for a change.

She wasn’t sure why she was doing it, maybe the body outside had put the idea in her head, maybe because she knew Sam (or any other prewar ghoul that saw it) would recognise it. Whatever the reason she found herself picking up a discarded piece of chalk and began drawing lines on the wall. 

By the time she was finished there was three sections of lines, following the sequence seven, nine, eleven. She smiled and moved the chalk to draw the frame and chuckled lightly when she was finished.

“I’d like to see anyone figure _this_ out.”

They left the place a little more fortified this time around, just to definitely make sure no one ran into any trouble whilst they were securing the place, and begrudging she decided they should go back to HQ.

Though in truth she didn’t know why she was bothering, she _knew_ the Railroad wouldn’t have any new missions and Desdemona was still refusing to instate her as a full agent. 

There was something wrong. The gate didn’t look tampered with, it was still locked. But when she lifted up the chain to unlock it she noticed the scratch marks near the keyhole.

Deacon.

So he found the holotape then. It didn’t exactly shock her, she’d left it underneath his pillow _expecting_ him to find it. But how did he knew about _this_? Glory was the only person that knew she had a trunk in the escape tunnel, she also knew she could trust Glory not to tell Deacon. So had he been eavesdropping or was it accident?

Well, it definitely wasn’t an accident. Even if he’d just stumbled upon the thing, making the effort to unlock the chain was nothing but intentional.

She rushed to release the lock and remove the chain around the gate. There was scratch marks on the lock to her trunk as well. For fuck sake, Deacon was infuriating. And she was also disappointed, she expected something better from him.

Her hands rummaged through the trunk, hitting the bottom of it several times before she finally faced the truth. Her wig was gone. The bastard had actually broken into the cage, all the way into her trunk…just to steal her wig. It was too juvenile for words, she was simply giving him back something that belonged to him. It was low for him to steal from her, and she was disappointed, she expected more from him.

She would have spent the time looking around trying to find it, it was her Railroad wig (it complimented her outfit really well). She was thankful for Codsworth, who chose his moments perfectly and also thankful that she was terrible at emptying her pack. She smiled as she reached into it and pulled out her black wig.

_Fuck you Deacon._

She laughed as she placed the bald cap on her head, tucking her real hear underneath, she placed in on her head comfortably before putting the wig on.

She let the door to the escape tunnel close quietly behind her. She instructed Dogmeat to stay by the door, the second he went running to the war room everyone would know she was back. And the idea was to sneak in.

Glory went to call for her but she put a finger to her lip and ran her hand across her throat. Glory winked and closed her mouth.

“Is Deacon here?” she whispered. She hugged the wall close to the entrance of the war room.

“Of course.” Glory whispered back without looking at her. She stared out into the room and waved at Carrington when he strolled past. “He’s getting his ear chewed off by Tom. He’s been asking about you.”

She bent down to her knees, took her pack off her shoulder and put it on the ground in front of her. It was still overbrimming with ‘useless crap’ - as MacCready would put it. Digging passed the wires and metal components she’d stripped for pieces, her hand brushed against the folded up board.

Dozens of pencils, pens and screws spilled onto the floor as she forced it out. She had planned to use it to patch up the panel Marcy was still bitching about, but using for it’s original purpose was good enough. . Slowly she got up and hugged the wall slightly as she tried to look inside the war room. Deacon was deep in conversation with Tom.

She tipped out some caps, thirty-four to be precise and put them in her pocket, she pulled down her sunglasses and winked at Glory before sneaking into the war room. Silently, like an animal stalking its prey.

Now was her chance.

She was pretty sure Deacon didn’t have a desk to call his own, given the amount of time he spent leaning against the wall, so she set up the board on his (poor excuse of a) pillow. She turned half the caps upside down, their silver metallic surface shone in what little light HQ had to offer and positioned them first. The other sixteen turned the other way, the Nuka Cola logo in view.

She’d made the first move, she was the ‘white’ pieces. She piled two caps on top of each other to signify which piece was the king and moved a few of her pieces across the board. She took one last glance to see that Deacon was still being verbally molested by Tom, she carefully took out her switchblade and began to cut letters into his pieces. She balanced the board a little better on his pillow and walked away smiling.

She liked to think Fahrenheit would be proud. Not that she needed the woman’s acceptance.

Say what you want about the Railroad, they were a good bunch of guys, but good lord they were so boring. Dez was all work and no play, Carrington was…well, Carrington. Drummer Boy didn’t speak to anyone, except Whisper apparently. Not that he was jealous. Glory was the closest thing Deacon had to a best friend but she only ever wanted to talk about guns.

_Honestly, what’s there to talk about? You point, you shoot. You kill before you’re killed._

And stress had done a number on Tom, he wasn’t so unhinged when they first met but time had changed him and now Tom was the man everyone thought was one bad experiment away from killing himself. And he’d probably take the whole Railroad with him whilst he was at it.

Tom's convinced that Deacon's actually a time traveller and no matter how many times Deacon told him it wasn’t true, Tom never believed him. That’s what he got for lying all the time, no one believed him anymore; even when he was telling the truth.

Not to mention that not one of them gave him the answers he was looking for, Glory had flat-out told him she wasn’t going to tell him about Whisper. And Tom and Drummer Boy seemed to know bugger all about her between them; how was that even possible? They’d literally chatted to the woman for hours every day over the past week. How did they know nothing about her?

“Glory!” Came an over exaggerated shout from the hallway.

He turned to see Glory and Whisper in the middle of a hug. Since when did Glory hug?

“Hey girl! Love the hair, looks real sweet on you.”

“Thanks Glory,” Deacon can hear the smile in her voice even if he can’t see it.

Deacon watched as they danced their fingers together, up and down through the air, before moving them into fists and lightly smashing them together. They both made the sounds of an explosion as they fluidly moved their hands away.

Less than a week sleeping next to each other and they already had a secret handshake. Not even he and Glory had one of those. What was it about Whisper…

“Is that the boss?” She laughed when she turned to look inside the war room.

Desdemona looked up from her desk, nodded and then went back to the folder she was still glued to.

She was definitely saying it loud on purpose, Deacon was sure of it.

“Afternoon Deac!” She slapped his shoulder a little harder than necessary.

The second he heard it, he loved it. A nickname within a codename. Awesome.

“Whisper.” He responded casually, and a little more quietly.

She shifted her body slightly to her right, as if she was blocking his view from something. He spotted her hair immediately, he was disappointed. How many wigs did she have? It was the same length and style as her last one but it was black. This was the exact way her hair looked the first time he saw her, minus the wisps of white that shone through it. Now the painful slap made sense, she’d realised he’d taken it.

“Like the hair?” She asked knowingly, her fingers ran through the strands as she held it up in front of her. “Reminds me of the old days.”

He read her silent translation but doesn’t react to it. _This is a game_ he tells himself. A game they’d been playing since she stepped out of the Vault, she just wasn’t a willing participant before.

“It’s a’right.” He shrugged and she gasped in fake offence.

“Well, thanks Deac. Obviously it was worth the trip to Diamond City.”

Said the lie straight out of her mouth. If he had to guess, after spending the night in HQ, her boyfriend was probably feeling a little lonely and she’d probably dragged him all the way to the Third Rail just to ride him all morning. Just because she didn’t bring him inside HQ didn’t mean he wasn’t outside waiting for her.

Why was he suddenly feeling jealous of that idea? He’d known from the beginning Whisper was seeing that kid, why was it suddenly bothering him?

_Because you know you can’t have her. And you always want the things you can’t have._

_It’s one of your excuses for torturing yourself._

He often thought the voices in his head tortured him enough that he didn’t really have to put in a lot of extra effort.

“Hey Tom,” she turned her entire body away from him, “what do _you_ think about my hair? Deacon’s not all that impressed.”

He was quick to note that she’d called him ‘Deacon’ when she was talking about him. A _secret_ nickname within a codename. Even better.

She was deep in conversation with Tom, her back completely turned to him, and Glory had left the hallway by now. Slowly, he backed away.

Feeling something in the air, he stopped and looked down at his mattress a few feet away. His eyebrows left the cover of his sunglasses when his eyes fell on the chessboard that sat on his pillow.

He was even more determined than ever now. Without taking his eyes off the war room he moved into the hallway and turned against the wall. Whisper had left her pack on the ground by her mattress. He bent down and slowly, quietly, opened it.

He saw the wrist clasp sticking out between all the junk she had in there. Seriously? Was she part pack mule or something? How can someone so small carry this much shit around?

If stealing her wig had been childish what he was about to do was downright cruel. It was probably her biggest secret after all, he’d seen her wearing it of course, but never inside HQ. It was one of the reasons he never mentioned her being a Vault-Dweller…plus that would just open up the whole line of questioning as to how he knew that.

He pulled at it, he winced and stopped when a few screws fell on the ground, but was then quick to rip the Pip-Boy out of her pack. Carefully he tipped the screws back inside, closed it and positioned it how she’d left it.

_It’s like you’re asking her to kill you._

_Just remember, anything she does to you in retaliation to this - you totally deserve._

She only went to her pack to check that the book Daisy had given her was still in there. She was paranoid at the best of times. The second she dragged it towards her she knew it was lighter. She peeled back the zip and spotted the book. She was relieved that it was definitely in there.

But something wasn’t.

_No, no no no…_

She spilled the contents of her pack onto her mattress. Screws, pencils, rings of copper wire…useless crap. _Where the fuck is it?_

She knew the answer as soon as she asked herself the question. What the actual fuck was wrong with him? He’d stolen from her, again and this time he’d stolen the one thing she promised to never lose.

_He could destroy everything I’ve built._

“Lost something?” Asked Glory behind her.

The synth was leaning against the archway, her arms folded under her chest, a concerned look painted on her face.

“Earlier, you said Deacon was asking about me?”

Glory peeled herself off the wall and nodded.

“That pickpocketing son-of-a-bitch is going down.” She hushed, mostly to herself. She looked up at Glory standing over her, “And I’m going to need your help.”

Glory smiled and nodded.

Normal girls back in her world had ‘girlfriends’, right? Glory was probably the closest thing to that for her. Her partner in crime.

Simultaneously, she reached for the bottle of whiskey by her pillow and the jet canister in her pack.

“He’s more of a wine guy.” Pointed out Glory, a twinkle in her eye when she realised what she was doing. “Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.”

She moved to her own pack and dragged out a bottle of red wine.

“He likes this one.”

“And how do you know that?” She teased as she took the bottle from Glory’s outstretched hand.

“Oh you know, cozy nights in by the fire, getting drunk and talking about starting a family.” She laughed. “You spend enough boring nights stuck in HQ, you tend to notice things about people.”

She placed the base of the canister between her teeth and pulled the plastic off to reveal the metal vial of liquid. She unscrewed the lid off the wine bottle.

“How much do you think I need to put in?” She asked as she held the spout over the opened bottle.

Glory shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve done this before. What exactly are you trying to do to him?”

“He took something from my pack and I don’t want him to wake up whilst I try to find it.”

Quite frankly Deacon was lucky she hadn’t run into the war room and tackled him to the ground.

_Don't take my stuff._

“Well, he’s very anti-chems so I doubt he’s got a high tolerance for the stuff. If you want to knock him unconscious, you won’t need much.”

She poured a third of the vial into the wine. She wiped the rim to remove the initial taste and screwed the lid back on. She shook the bottle slightly as she held it out for Glory to take.

“You do it. He probably won’t question it if you’re the one giving it to him.”

Glory winked and left the room. She returned less than a minute later, she clapped her now empty hands together.

“Piece of cake.”

They both laughed and high-fived again as Glory sat down next to her.

“Hey listen,” Glory voice suddenly went serious. “I’m sorry if I kicked you last night.”

She looked ashamed of herself.

“It’s cool, Glory.” She placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’re all dealing with our own shit. I’ll just have to find myself some shinguards.”

Glory smiled in gratitude.

The synth didn’t have to say another word about it, she of all people understood what it was like to have nightmares about a world she could barely remember. They had each lived in a world they just wanted to forget.

He was pretty sure it was the pounding in his head that woke him up. He felt like shit. He hadn’t drunk that much of the wine Glory had given him, but he felt like he was suffering from the biggest hangover of his life.

He was usually the first one up, no matter how much alcohol he consumed, but it had to be ridiculously early because HQ was deadly quiet, save the noises of his fellow sleeping agents. What the hell happened last night? He couldn’t remember much past sitting on his mattress, playing with the chessboard Whisper had left him.

He opened his eyes, the usual dim light of HQ seemed brighter today. He groaned and brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes.

_Wait a second._

He just rubbed his eyes…without having to move anything. His fingers ran down his face, his fears were confirmed. He bolted up from his mattress, his hands searched over the floor, under his pillow, across his mattress. They weren’t there.

_Whisper._ He growled.

He guessed she found out he’d taken her Pip-Boy. He was a light sleeper, how did he not feel them leave his face? Then he gave another thought to how shit he felt, the off-tasting wine he drank last night. Naturally, all wine tasted a bit ‘off’ after two-hundred years but it was an unfamiliar taste.

Whisper had stolen his sunglasses and Glory had helped her do it. Even Glory was picking a side. At this rate the only people that were going to be in his corner were Dez  and Carrington, and that was not a threesome he wanted to participate in.

He sprinted to the hallway where Whisper was sleeping. He dived on top of her, she woke up immediately. Her instinct kicked in and she began lashing out at him. He pinned her arms down by her wrists, for her own protection of course.

_Yeah sure…you keep telling yourself that._

He pushed his body down onto her to stop her from trying to kick him.

“Deacon, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She seethed. She struggled to break herself free.

“Give me my fucking sunglasses. Now.” He asked through gritted teeth.

She grunted and before he could do anything about it, she was wriggling her legs free. She wrapped them around his thighs and with incredible strength, flipped their positions. A second before he moved to pin him down she was reaching inside her boots and before Deacon could react Whisper was holding a knife to his throat.

“After you stole my Pip-Boy you should be grateful I didn’t slit your throat.” She threatened in his ear.

She was holding a knife to his throat, threatening him. There was no way it was supposed to be sexy…and yet it was. 

Deacon tried desperately to ignore the fact her clothes crotch was rested on top of his. There was a light heat radiating from it he was also trying to ignore. Emphasis on trying because his cock didn’t give two shits about what he wanted to do, his hormones had a mind of their own and he was desperately trying to will away how nice she felt straddled over him.

She was a pain in the ass. He had to remember that.

“So, what are you, a Vaultie?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He just wanted to see if she admitted it.

“I found it.” She stated blankly.

It may have had something to do with the situation they were currently in but yeah, she sounded pretty believable and if he didn’t know the truth, he would have taken her at her word.

“That’s, that’s some luck.” She pressed the knife harder against his throat when he went to push her away.

_A woman this small should not be this goddamn strong._

“Luck has nothing to do with it. ” She pushed her whole body down against him. She leant down to whisper in his ear, the knife almost cutting into his skin. “Give it back and I might consider giving back your sunglasses.”

Neither of them said a word, he laid with his back on the mattress, Whisper’s body straddled over him. Her heat still brushing against his jeans.

“Take your fucking knife off my throat then,” he suggested.

He could have sworn her nails dug into him reluctantly as she gracefully peeled herself off him.

She cursed herself for watching him as he walked away. She didn’t know what the hell was happening, she’d suddenly found herself trapped underneath a body, she tried to defend herself and big hands pinned her wrists down on her mattress. The deep voice echoed through her…

No. Nope. No.

_No._

It had not turned her on in the slightest, the man that did this was Deacon, the man who had stalked her, stole from her. Twice.

It was probably just because of that note MacCready left, she still missed him. And her hormones were probably on overdrive. it had been a few weeks after all. And even if it was harmless, all that flirting with Hancock certainly… _woke some things up._

Before she could let her mind wander too far, Deacon returned with her Pip-Boy hanging out of his hand.

She snatched it away from him and sighed with relief as she ran her fingers over it. It was like an oversized wrist watch, that she couldn’t live without.

She laid down on her mattress and stretched her hands underneath her pillow.

“Now,” she stopped and hid the hitch in her breath when she felt Deacon’s hand on her knee.

Cryogenics really had done a number on her.

“Sunglasses.” He said more pointedly.

She laughed before stretching her fingers around the plastic. She pulled the sunglasses out from under her pillow and held them out for him to take.

He tore them out of her grasp and he sighed with relief too when they were on his face again.

They sat facing each other, heads moving from side to side as they studied each other’s covered face in the dark. Deacon’s hand was still on her knee.

Glory startled them both back to reality.

“You guys didn’t just fuck, did you? Not whilst I was sleeping next to you”

She laughed and Deacon’s hand quickly retreated away from her leg.

“Well, good night Whisper.” He smiled and got to his feet.

“Good night Deacon.”

Well that hadn’t exactly gone the way she’d planned but still, there was definitely a shift in their relationship. She felt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry had to leave the whole pinning each other down bit in it, its a bit of a reoccurring theme with these two lol.
> 
> Coincidentally 7-9-11 is the sequence of my wedding day
> 
> I have no idea what chem would work best in drugging someone but I assume Jet, when mixed with alcohol, would be enough to make anyone fall asleep. That is my theory and I'm sticking to it.
> 
> If you were paying attention, yeah Hangman's Alley is what she finds. I wanted to keep the name but have a reason for it, plus the game of hangman comes in handy down the line (trust)
> 
> The feeling she gets when 'reequipping' her Pip-Boy is like the feeling Frodo gets in the final LOTRs film when Sam takes the ring to protect him. I like to think she has that sort of weight on her shoulders, you know having to save the world from all the bad guys.
> 
> Glory and Deacon's friendship is something I intend to expand on, as well as his and MacCready's history. Though not going to lie, I still haven't figured out when Whisper's going to find out...but I'll work on it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. You guys are awesome xx


	18. Seven Nation Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper and Deacon live in the aftermath they've created for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hasn't changed too much, it's mainly the stuff left over from the previous two chapters that I wanted to keep in the story.
> 
> More internal dialogue...coming from Whisper more this time.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0J2QdDbelmY))
> 
> I still see this as Deacon's song. To me it describes Deacon perfectly. Listen to it, you know I’m right! And if you don’t agree, who cares lol.

_No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing._

 

She was in too deep now, there was no room for escape.

_You made your bed, now you’ve got to sleep in it._

But had she? Had she really been the one to start all this?

Not really, was her answer. Deacon made the first move, about three months back, when he dropped that holotape in the first place. She was just giving it back to him, Deacon was the one who turned it into a game.

_I don’t think even you believe that._

But it _was_ what happened. She gave him back his holotape, he resorted to stealing a wig (seriously a fucking wig - it was still too juvenile for her to comprehend). She gave him a chessboard, he stole her Pip-Boy…

She meant what she said, he was lucky stealing his sunglasses was the only thing she did. Every self-preserving fibre of her being told her to slit his throat and the only reason she didn’t do it was because, at that moment, she still needed the Railroad.

_Sure, if that’s what you’re gonna tell yourself, fine._

_Shut up._

_Okay, I mean why would you listen to me? I’m just a voice inside your head, it’s not like I have anything useful to say._

What do you when someone steals something of yours?  The simple answer is steal something of theirs of equal value. Tit for tat…an eye for an eye.

Nowhere in that simple solution did she think it would end with her being pinned down, helpless, on her own mattress.

When she awoke the next morning the first thing she did was check inside her pack, her Pip-Boy was still safely inside and she begun to wonder if the whole thing had been a dream.

Then Glory woke up.

“Surprised you’re still here,” was her first comment when she awoke.

“Where else would I be?” she asked innocently, her mind determined she’d imagined the whole thing.

“Oh I dunno, figured you’d want to sleep next to Deacon, considering what went on between the two of you last night.”

_Shit._ Okay, so it hadn’t been a dream. Underneath her bandana she could feel her face burning up, guessing the flush was making its way down the rest of her body.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she shrugged.

“Oh pull the other one Whisper!” Glory sat up and rested her back against the wall. “I wake up in the middle of the night to see you and Deacon staring at each other, his body pretty much over yours…and you’re telling me _nothing_ happened?”

“Yes, Glory that is _exactly_ what I’m telling you.”

Because that was exactly what happened…Nothing.

Dreams.

Everyone has them, right? The synapses of the brain firing away and creating images…a whole story sometimes, moments before reality startles you awake. Some people like to think dreams are where your subconscious pieces life together, and you wake up with a big old smile on your face because you’ve got a solution to your problem.

Deacon still had dreams, he was sure of it, but he barely remembered them the next morning. Too many years dreaming about the UP Deathclaws, Barbara’s lifeless body laying on the floor. White sparks of broken wires instead of the crimson river of blood. He’d trained himself not to think about it the next morning. As far as he was concerned nothing happened, his nights were dark; peaceful.

And he certainly never woke up with a smile on his face because he’d found a solution to his problem. He was never going to find the solution, his problem being Whisper.

It wasn’t Whisper per se that was the problem - she was just another person in his life, one he was quite happy to have in it. No, his problem with Whisper began ever since she started sleeping in HQ.

He awoke, as he always did, to her voice in his head. A voice, that if she wanted it to, could persuade him to kill himself and take down the whole Railroad with him. It was also harder to sleep ever since she left that holotape underneath his pillow.

She hadn’t said a word about it, not that he expected her to, and he didn’t mention it either. He was just patiently waiting for her next move. She recognised him, that much she’d proven already and he wondered if his initial suspicions had been correct and Hancock had told her everything.

Well, not everything because Hancock didn’t know the whole story, neither did Deacon. Between them? Maybe. Maybe the gaps could be filled in by both of them but that meant having to relive that day. It also meant that he would have to speak to Hancock again and that thought terrifies him enough to keep him inside the safety of HQ.

One particular morning he was surprised to be woken up by a different voice.

_It wasn’t a dream!_

His back flew off the mattress like a spring being released and he stared down at his body in disbelief. His hands reached for his face and, upon touching his sunglasses, he had to ask himself,

_Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?_

_Okay, you got me, I just said that to screw with you. Seriously? YES it fucking happened you idiot._

Images of that night flashed in front of his eyes and he was suddenly trying to will away the aching in his groin. And he wasn’t sure if it was the image of her underneath him or her pressing a knife to his throat that was turning him on. 

He was pinning her down on her mattress…why the fuck was he…

_Oh yeah._

She stole his _goddamn_ sunglasses.

Rip his jeans, put a baby mirelurk in his shoes, knife him in the stomach…do anything you want, just don’t touch the shades.

He stole a wig, and a Pip-Boy no one knew she had. It was hardly grounds to steal his last line of defence. He really needed to glue the suckers to his face.

Days were running together the longer she spent cooped up inside HQ, there were a dozen places she could go, so why on earth was she staying down here?

Her mind was constantly preoccupied with the same thing.

When it was happening she wasn’t really paying that much attention, she was running on instinct, trying to free herself as he pinned her down against her mattress. But subconsciously she was registering everything. Old habits and all that. Deacon was heavier than he looked, not fat - as far as she could tell Deacon didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Under his t-shirt he was nothing but muscle, she felt it when he pressed his body down against hers. She finally gained the upper hand and by the time she flipped him over she was too pissed at him for stealing her Pip-Boy, digging her nails into his wrists, to think about his body pinned under hers. Now she’d played back through the whole thing in her head…either Deacon was already hard or he was extremely…

“So, how big is Deacon’s dick?”

The stale gum she’d been chewing on hit the back of her throat when she inhaled suddenly and she choked on a breath.

“What?” Could Glory see inside her head? “For the last time, we didn’t do anything!”

“So, you just happened to be laying on your bed, Deacon’s hand on your knee?” Glory raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes!” She defended herself again.

“Then the question my friend is, how the hell you got to that point in the first place?”

She wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that, it all started because

“I stole his sunglasses.”

“Damn. That’s cold girl.” Though she said it with a smile.

“I was giving them back and he was giving back what he took from me.” Because there was no way she was about to admit (not even to Glory) that she owned a Pip-Boy. “We were reaching an impasse when you woke up. Nothing happened.”

It was the truth; nothing happened. Okay, something _did_ happen but it was nothing…

“Okay, I believe you. But what you gonna do now? You know, now you’re at this ‘impasse.’”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. Where _did_ they go from here?

Deacon was a red-blooded male, of course he felt something, he wasn’t dead from the waist down but at the time he was too unbelievable pissed that she stole his sunglasses. But he’d had time to reflect on it since then, the way she was trapped underneath him, her hands pinned above her head. He may have crossed a line but the second she flipped him onto his back he felt the heat of her core through his jeans. He didn’t know if it was a natural heat or she was turned on. Whatever the reason, he found himself praying that she couldn’t feel anything of his at that moment. Whisper’s entire body, whilst clothed, had been wrapped around his chest; she was so small.

They never acknowledged that night again. Glory never said a word. As far as they were all concerned nothing happened. Because the fact was, nothing did happen. So why was his head making such a big deal out of it?

He was dreaming almost every night now, remembering more and more each time he woke up. He was in the middle of a particularly nice dream, involving Whisper and… _something_ , when a sudden heat brushed across his face and his eyes shot open.

He flinched away in terror when he looked up at the spit covered fangs above him, his face scrunched when a large tongue ran over his cheek and he pushed the beast away.

Deacon took the grateful lick as the words the dog couldn’t speak. _Thanks for saving my owner._

Whisper was still under the impression they didn’t get along. Who knows, maybe the dog was lulling him into a false sense of security…just like his owner.

“Dogmeat!” Came Whisper’s voice, the telling-off lost in her laugh. “I’m sorry, he’s just excited. Come here boy,”

He sat up as Whisper slapped her hands down on her thighs and the dog jumped off him and ran towards her. She rubbed the top of the dog’s head with one hand and produced a small pink ball from her pocket with the other.

She bounced it on the floor once, quickly catching it in her hand. The dog sat back on it’s legs, the hairs of its tail brushed across the floor as it stared up expectantly at its owner.

“Stupid boy.” She relented and dropped the ball at Dogmeat’s feet.

He whined happily, pushing the ball with his paw slightly and followed it as he pushed it across the floor. She laughed and turned back to look at Deacon.

“Hey.”

He’d been too busy looking at her super friendly dog to realise she was sat down next to him. Out of his peripheral he was watching his pillow, waiting to see if she was about to sneak anything else underneath it.

“What up?” nodding his head in a nonchalant motion.

He turned to look at her, realised her hands were safely on her thighs (probably intentional) and gave her a quick read. Nothing. He hid his eyes but she hid her whole face, he wasn’t _ever_ going to get a real read of this woman. Not inside the confines of HQ anyway.

It had been too long since he’d seen the sky, only ever going as far as the other side of the escape door to get fresh air. People like him weren’t designed to be cooped up this long.

“Are things usually this quiet?”

“I guess you could say we’re all still settling into our new home.”

They hadn’t been in the Old Church for that long, it was still taking some getting used to and it particular hard to get used to how few of them there were now. Whisper was a start but they were going to need more people if they were actually going to fight the Institute.

Dez never talked about the Institute - not stopping them at least - she was far too forced on saving synths, she tended to put their lives above everyone else’s. It was fact that, even to this day, annoyed the crap out him and the boss had yet to ask his opinion. Which he found strange because, even though she’d never admit it out loud, Dez liked getting Deacon’s opinion on Railroad business. After all, the only reason she was currently leading them was because he made it painfully clear that he didn’t want to be more than a simple agent. It was an unspoken fact that he and Dez never spoke about. 

Whisper had reason to find the Institute, maybe she was the push the Railroad needed. Scratch that. She was definitely the push they needed.

Whisper groaned.

“I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get out of here soon.” She paused for a moment. “Well, see you later.”

She’d noticed it a while ago, the dishevelled look of him, but over the course of the last few days (coincidentally the same length of time since the ‘tunnel incident’) he’d started to resemble that of a walking corpse.

Just like she’d done with anyone else, she’d been watching him. Nothing he did was an accident, there was a reason behind everything he did. There was a reason he slept on the most centralised mattress, the surrounding desks and equipment gave him the perfect cover whilst its position opened him up to every path an enemy could choose. Then there was the wall he leant against during the day, the wall that helped him see everything yet seemingly hid him at the same time.

She realised that, whilst he might not be as crazy as him, Deacon was just as paranoid as Tom. It opened up the question as to how long Deacon had been working with the Railroad and what he had done before joining the organisation.

Paranoia like that came from years of seeing the worst of the world, that much she knew. She was still too young (if she ignored the extra two-hundred and ten years Vault-Tec hadn’t given her), hadn’t reached that level of paranoia yet, given enough time she might end up just like him but for now she was sticking to the philosophy she’d been brought up with.

_You can’t trust everyone._

“Do you know where you’re stood?” She asked casually, gently pressing her back against the wall as she stood next to him.

She noticed it immediately, Deacon was leaning, his legs bent out in front of him and even with her back completely straight, the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. She had to crank her neck high to look at him. MacCready was younger than her, about the same height and she hadn’t thought about how small she was in years. But Deacon was a fully-fledged adult and he was easily over six foot. She felt like a child just standing next to him.

She ignored the uneasy feeling and continued.

“You’re in the paranoid spot.” She answered his silence. Her hands fanned out to the room in front of her. “You can see what everyone’s doing, where they all are, and no one can sneak up on you.”

She recognised it well, lots of officers had their ‘favourite’ spot that they liked to watch over and she was usually locked in a soft room when she sat in hers.

“You’ve got a perfect eye line to the door,” she pointed to the door that led to the Church, “and the escape tunnel,” her other hand pointed to the large metal door on the other side of the room.

“What’s your point?” He asked casually.

“Well, it’s nice that the boss is looking out for us. You know?”

At least she still believed his lie. That was something.

“Thank God I’m getting out of here tonight.”

Behind his sunglasses Deacon was worried, was she quitting already?

“Where you goin’?”

_Drop the second ‘g’…makes it sound more casual. Like you’re not shitting yourself._

“Prior obligations.”

Not quite a lie but not quite an answer either. _She’s better than I thought_.

She looked over to see Dogmeat curled up on Drummer Boy’s feet as he puffed on his endless cigarette. Everyone seemed to smoke, she supposed people had little else to do.

“I’d take Dogmeat with me but dog’s aren’t allowed.” She laughed. “So, I guess I’m on my own.”

Deacon always assumed that MacCready kid was waiting outside for her. Had he finally stabbed her in the back?

She wasn’t going to say it, that much she’d decided, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask him to come with her. Quite frankly she wasn’t even sure she wanted him there. But she’d gotten to know everyone else in the Railroad, Deacon was the last one left. 

“I could always take Glory…but she’s too in-your-face, you know?”

He did. He had the  _exact_ same opinion.

“I can’t imagine Tom and Drummer Boy would last more than two seconds out there.”

_I’ll fucking go with you!_

“Plus can you imagine the look on Desdemona’s face if I even suggest she come with me?”

There was a moment of awkward silence, it only lasted a few seconds but the air was thick around them. She wanted it noted on the record of her life that Deacon gave in first,

“Di-“

“Well, see ya!”

_Okay, we’re still playing are we?_

Her face felt hot because of her bandana, no other reason.

No other reason at all.

She was shaking a little, every nerve in her body pricked her skin. Why on earth was she acting like a lovestruck teenager? She barely tolerated the man, he had still stalked her and he still stole her Pip-Boy. Stealing his sunglasses may have been a little mean, but at least she had the common decency to do it at night. And she knew Deacon was always the first one to wake, because she was always the second.

“You okay, girl?” asked Glory when she stepped back into the tunnel.

“Yeah,” she replied in a breath as she went to sit back down on her mattress. _Again._ Because it wasn’t like there was anything else to do.

“So, what are _your_ plans for today?” Glory asked in such a way that it sounded like she had endless possibilities. 

“You mean other than being stuck here until Desdemona pulls her finger out her ass and gives me something real to do?” Glory chuckled knowingly at that. They were all getting bored.

She looked down at her pack, somewhere - mixed in with all the ‘useless crap’ - was the book Daisy had asked her to return.

“Thought I’d go check out Boston Library to see if it’s still in one piece.”

Glory’s head turned towards the archway then, and it was easy for her to guess who the synth was looking at.

They were agents first, but Glory couldn’t help but see Deacon as a friend. That annoying little asshole had a habit of worming his way into people’s hearts and it was almost impossible not to love him. The choices were usually love him or kill him and Desdemona would kill anyone that hurt her precious Deacon.

“You know Deacon quotes Shakespeare whilst fighting?”

She did know that, she also knew why Glory was making a point of mentioning it. Like throwing a dog a bone. “He does that all the time, no matter how stealthy he’s supposed to be.”

Her comment was met with silence, internally Glory groaned, having realised she was dealing with two ridiculously stubborn people. 

“He hasn’t really left since your little trip to the Switchboard.”

There was dropping hints and then there was laying all cards on the table.

“You’re kidding?”

She had suspected as much but to hear it confirmed was different.

“Nope.”

Glory left her with her thoughts, probably going to check in on the man they’d just been discussing.

Dogmeat whined, looked at her with those sad eyes and then actually gestured towards Deacon. 

_Maybe I should_ … _No, no. No!_ He didn’t deserve to go with her, not after everything he’d put her through.

_Oh yeah, because you’re innocent in all this aren’t you?_

Deciding she hadn’t lost all sense of rationality she moved to stand up. She moved towards the door, failing to notice that Dogmeat hadn’t followed. When she couldn’t feel him brush up against her leg she turned back around to see Dogmeat sat in the same spot, his legs twitching as if he wanted to follow her but an invisible force keeping him in place.

“You okay boy?” She asked with all the concern in the world. Dogmeat was usually clawing at the walls to get out.

He whined, looked towards the war room and turned back to her, his sad puppy dog eyes attempting to tear at her soul.

“Seriously? You too?”

Since when the hell did the two of them get so chummy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed my mind, I didn't want her asking Deacon to come with her. But don't worry, these kids wil be on the road together soon. Quicker than you expect.
> 
> And it's only slightly longer this time. See, I'm getting better. Haha, listen to me...I've still got about half a dozen chapters to go back through...fuck knows how many words we're going to end up with.
> 
> Teehee, Deacon's voices are funny. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and your continued support. You guys are the best =]


	19. Bad Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper travels to Boston Library on her own and meets up with a certain bald, sunglasses wearing super spy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again not a lot of this chapter has changed, just the circumstances in which Deacon and Whisper end up in Boston Library.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Bad Company - Five Finger Death Punch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_VsvZmIWxY&list=RDu_VsvZmIWxY&index=1))

  _Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?_

 

When she was on the other side of the door she quickly wrapped her arms around herself. Winter was just around the corner, she could smell it in the air. Back in the day, leaves and flowers would be crumbling away, the air would be crisp. She doubted it snowed anymore, total nuclear fallout brought blistering heat and radstorms, occasionally it rained but it was still warm.

And to think people had been worried about global warming during her life…

She was lost in her own head, her brain caught up in a world that didn’t exist anymore, but she was thrown painfully back into reality when she reached the steps of the library.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

There was no way it was a coincidence, those didn’t exist when it came to Deacon. She’d had the foresight to leave Dogmeat with Glory, meaning what she said to Deacon, he really would literally destroy the place. But she never actually told Deacon where she was going…

And how the fuck did he get here before her?

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Railroad’s secret weapon,” he commented once he noticed her.

He was genuinely surprised to see her. Then the pieces clicked into place. This was exactly why Glory mentioned the library in the first place, even going as far as to give him some stupid token he could cash in for (and he quotes) ‘something awesome’.

This was what the ‘something awesome’ was.

_Oh that sneaky little synth._

He took his hands away from the intercom he’d spent the last five minutes trying to bypass and looks at her. Seeing her wearing her jumpsuit, plus the crap on her face, it was like going down memory lane. Back to when he first 'met' her.

It had been five months almost.

He was painfully aware that he was wearing his ‘drifter’ outfit - a t-shirt and jeans - and he felt her eyes fall over it. Her eyes scanned over him, he saw her hand rest on her hip and he wondered if she was going to say anything.

“Deacon.” She greeted, her arms moving to fold in front of her chest. _Why am I not surprised?_

“Whatcha doing here?”

_As if you don’t already know the answer to that._ “Returning a book,” she replied, gesturing down to the book in her hand. “You?”

He chuckled. “Returning a book eh? I can only imagine the charges after this long.”

She raised an eyebrow at his comment, what exactly did he mean by ‘this long’? Then she looked down at the book in her hands, she hadn’t given much thought to that…

“Man, if I get charged for this, Daisy is going to owe me big.”

She didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out. Less than two minutes with him and she was letting the truth slip already.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

She was wearing her Pip-Boy and mentioning Goodneighbor already, she was definitely trying to torture him.

“Library’s closed. You know, what with it being the middle of the night an’ all.” He turned his back to her and continued to fiddle with the intercom.

“Desdemona send you on a job?” She asked, not forgetting he had yet to give his excuse to being there.

“Not exactly, being stuck in HQ that long means I’ve run out of reading material. Thought I’d give War and Peace a shot finally.”

She leant back against the pillar and watched him as he tried to do whatever he was doing.

After a few minutes of standing around, nothing happening, a sudden question popped into her head.

“Are you a religious man, Deacon?”

He stopped at her words, partly out of shock, partly out of pride. The question certainly came from nowhere.

“Well I can’t say I imagine myself sitting in church all day singing but I’d like to think there’s someone watching us…it’s called the Institute.” The smile he gave himself was short-lived when he touched something he wasn’t supposed to and got an electric shock.

Behind him he could hear her stifling a laugh and did his best to shake off the embarrassment of the moment.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Your name.” She replied, eventually peeling herself off the wall to help him. “I mean, I’m assuming everyone has a codename, unless his parents really did name him Drummer Boy. ‘Deacon - servant of the church’. I was just curious that’s all.”

The last words wash over him, literally, and he had to stop himself from jumping out of his skin when he realised she was stood so close to him that he could smell her.

Still that same beautiful smell he’d experienced over a week ago.

“Here,” her voice is soft, the hand on his shoulder even softer and he loses himself in her touch for a moment. 

She pushed him out of the way slightly and examined the intercom for herself.

“Why’d you choose the name Whisper?”

She shrugged.

“Thought it sounded cool.”

He knew it was a lie, there were plenty of reasons - one of which was the agent that once owned the gun on her thigh. Carrying on Tommy’s legacy…like a pro.

Her eyes switched between him and the intercom on the wall.

“Did you try pressing the button?”

She doubted it. He was probably just making it look like he was trying to get inside, so it didn’t look like he was doing exactly what she suspected. Waiting for her.

“Welcome to Boston Public Library.” 

She looked at him questioningly. Apparently he hadn’t.

“The Library is currently closed.”

“Told you.” He retorted and she wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.

“I imagine it’s been closed for quite some time.” She joked before leaning in and holding her finger on the button. “Did you try telling it you work here?”

“And how is an intercom going to believe me?”

She tutted with a shake of her head and moved him even more (unnecessarily) out of the way.

“I’m an employee.” She stated calmly into the intercom.

Slyly, under his breath, Deacon scoffed. _As if it’s going to be that-_

“Please provide your six-digit employee ID number.”

Deacon was dumbstruck, his feet glued to the ground and his eyes glued to the back of Whisper’s head. Infiltrating somewhere locked up was supposed to be complicated…How many other precious hours had he wasted unlocking terminals when he could have just _talked_ his way in?

Deacon, not for the first time, found himself reevaluating the rest of his life.

“1,2,3,4,5,6” the numbers ran off her tongue like she’d rehearsed this moment a million times.

Deacon was glad he was stood behind her, glad she had her back to the open mouthed expression he was wearing. There was no way on this earth -

“Welcome, Mr. Mayor. Please enjoy your visit.”

_Holy shit._ He couldn’t believe it actually worked.

The intercom, like everything else she touched, must have got caught under her spell.

“Seriously?” She shook her head as she heard the mechanism behind the door move; unlocking it. She would have commented on how pathetic it was to give the _Mayor_ such a simple code, then she remembered meeting him and thought even _that_ sequence would have confused him.

She walked through the door without so much as a glance back in his direction, almost slamming the door in his face and Deacon was adamant she’d done it intentionally. They stepped inside and whilst Deacon was focusing on the ‘return your books here’ machine Whisper wandered off, deeper into the Library.

Four Protectrons moved through the room, desks had been upturned and there was barricades everywhere. The memories of people fighting for their lives.

It was easier to ignore Deacon and his bullshit now she was inside.

She span around on the spot, her eyes scanning over every inch of the room. Her job never brought her here, Nathaniel never took her here…The walls were covered in books, all the way up to the ceiling. This one room was bigger than the library she had growing up. There was a plaque on the wall - A-E written in beautiful gold paint. There were dozen more rooms to explore. Her felt an almost child-like joy at the notion of reading every single one of them.

_I cannot wait._

Behind her she was sure she could hear Deacon calling for her, she ignored him as she walked along the far wall, her fingers brushing against the spines of each book she came across.

She stood in front of the bookcase that had a small faded ‘D’ etched into it. The biggest book on the shelf, possibly in the whole library, it took both of her hands to gently lift out from between the others. Particles of dusted danced in the air and fell to the ground. No one had been here in years…

The smell hit her first, a fraction of a second before the gunshot echoed. 

“Oh shit!”

Familiar grunts pulled her back to reality. She looked towards the archway and the green wall of flesh stared back at her.

She dropped the book and dived behind the closest desk as the Protectrons around her started firing. She turned and lifted her rifle just in time to stop a Mutant Hound ripping apart the first robot it saw.

She tried to look for him but Deacon was lost in a sea of green. Her first thought had been to leave him to his fate, but she quickly changed her mind. She shot with more urgency, only stopping to reload, and the fight ended when the last Supermutant got a bullet to the head.

She dived over the desk and ran to where she last saw him.

“Deac?” She turned the corner, he was on the floor - alive but clutching his side.

She could see the blood seeping onto his hand. She moved towards him,

_I’m not doing this because I like him_

She took her pack off her shoulder and she was pulled out a stimpack moments before she bent down next to him.

_I’m doing this because I can’t afford to be kicked out of the Railroad._

She pushed his t-shirt up, stopping herself from biting her lip when she saw the outline of stomach muscles.

_Or worse._

“You’re not supposed to die, not like this.” She moved her mouth close to his ear and spoke in a whisper, “I’m supposed to stab you in your sleep.”

Deacon was probably in a lot of pain, making a joke was a good way to distract people when they were in pain. Even if it was a crappy joke. And not necessarily a joke, because a few times she really did feel like killing him in his sleep.

"These words are razors to my wounded heart" coughing slightly, wincing in pain.

Injured and still quoting Shakespeare? Her eyebrow arched above her sunglasses. She smiled. _Good for you._

She laughed and plunged the stimpack unapologetically into the cut on his side.

He groaned when he sat up.

“Thanks.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck.

She smiled again, thinking it was cute that he was embarrassed.

“Desdemona will kill me if I let something happen to you.”

“There’ll be more.” He was right. “Still wanna look around?” He asked cautiously.

“Listen, if you’re scared,” she teased.

It might have been cruel to tease him, she couldn’t really blame him if he was scared, he did almost die after all.

“I’m not scared,” thought he knew the tone of his voice was betraying him. “But how about you return that book before we get too distracted?”

“Oh crap!” She pulled the book out of her pack and put it in the machine.

She traded in the tokens for a small plastic bracelet, like something a little girl would wear. Deacon had no idea why, and he certainly didn’t know why she was suddenly putting it around her wrist.

“Remind me to go to Goodneighbor and tell Daisy. I swear if my head wasn’t attached to my body sometimes.”

She laughed but she wasn’t okay. She was more level headed than this. Better trained.

Deacon seemed to have this effect on her.

Whisper seemed a little off, not as confident now they were inside the library. He was pretty sure he needed to thank her, more than the Protectrons, that he was still alive. She definitely seemed worried about him, even if she didn’t ask if he was okay, and she’d been quick to plunge a stimpack into his wound. Even if she hadn’t warned him, even if he was embarrassed by the fact this young, very tiny, woman was having to heal him.

She was distracted, he knew this because Whisper would have killed the Supermutant Hound before he even noticed it. The shot he let off missed when the Hound dived through the air and lunged at Whisper.

Losing her footing she flew backwards, crashed into him, and they rolled into the open cupboard. Deacon managed to right himself just in time to close the door before the Hound attacked them again.

He kept a strong grip on the handle as he tried to keep the Hound from biting his way through. In the dark he reached for the nearest thing and wedged it under the handle.

Slowly, _carefully_ , he took his hand away. The door shook from the Hound running into it, but it didn’t open. And Deacon could relax, at least for now, in the knowledge that they were safe.

_Yeah, safe…and locked inside a cupboard._

He sat down on the floor, his knees bent casually in front of him as he tried to regain his breath. Somewhere in the darkness beside him he could hear Whisper, sighing frustratedly as she smacked something.

_No no no,_ _please_ _don’t do this._ She wanted to cry, genuinely. She badmouthed it a lot but she wouldn’t know what to do if it was…

“It’s real dark in here.” He commented, barely able to see his hand in front of his face until he accidentally slapped himself with it.

Whisper sighed again.

“I-I can’t get the light to work.” She turned the knobs on the panel pointlessly. The screen showed nothing but dim static.

She wasn’t even sure what happened, one moment they were walking through the corridor, the next she was being thrown into a cupboard. She hadn’t been paying attention, she was lucky was still alive. Her insubordination could have killed them both.

“It’s broken.” She finally admitted, the sadness evident in her voice.

She was pointlessly slapping the side of her Pip-Boy in an attempt to make the light come to life

“Right now, I can’t do much to help ya with that. Find me some light and I can have a look at it,”

She smiled in the dark. She suspected Deacon didn’t know the first thing about fixing a Pip-Boy, he was saying it to be nice.

Maybe he wasn’t that much of an asshole after all.

“I don’t have anything.”

“Well, I wish I could tell you I can sprout fire out of my hands but I’m not a Mr. Handy…I’ve only ever dressed like one.”

There was a moment of silence as they both tried to internally come up with a solution.

He heard Whisper sigh in the blackness of the cupboard.

“I have a solution.” She said hesitantly. “But I swear I will hit you if you mention it outside of this cupboard. And I will kill you if you tell anyone. Okay?”

“Can you shoot fire out your eyes?”

“Not quite.” She breathed a laugh. Her fingers tapped against her hat and she sighed.

Hancock and Amari had been an accident, an unavoidable occurrence as they fought to save her life. MacCready found out _with_ her…but here she was, about to reveal something incredibly sensitive to a man who’d been following her. 

If he hadn’t followed her here in the first place she wouldn’t have had to waste her time healing him and getting distracted by him, she would have seen the mutant hound coming and she wouldn’t have got herself locked in a cupboard.

_I fucking hate you._

In the darkness of the cupboard a thin blue light appeared in the air and it grew bigger before falling down in the shape of the curly white strands in her hair.

“You have hair that glows in the dark.” The blackhole that was his open mouth sucked in all the light her hair was emanating. “You have hair…that glows in the dark.”

“Apparently so.” She seethed. As if her life wasn’t ridiculous enough. “Didn’t always look like this,” her fingers twirled lightly in her curls.

_I know, I was there._

“But every day I woke up there were more. I think there’s still some black in the back,” she commented, trying to grab a few old strands in her hand and look at them.

“How… _when_ did you first realise that it _glowed in the dark_?” His jaw corrected itself and he pursed his lips together.

“M-I dropped my favourite switchblade in the water.” She looked down affectionately at her Pip-Boy. “I’ve never wanted to risk getting it wet.”

In truth MacCready had been the one to drop it, after he insisted on playing with it. She just didn’t feel like talking about him to Deacon, she was in too deep now, she was stuck with him. But she could still protect MacCready, though if Deacon had been following her for as long as she thought he had, he knew about MacCready already.

She was genuinely sad that it was damaged, hoping that someone somewhere could fix it.

“At first I just thought it was the reflection of the water…but then a strand floated in front of my face. I swear if I hadn’t been underwater I would have screamed.” She ended with a joke.

He heard her word slip, noted her quick recovery and knew she was referring back to a point in time when she was travelling with MacCready. Whisper had been careful not to mention the mercenary by name and Deacon was happy to keep playing along. As far as she was concerned the two men didn’t know about each other.

“Keep swimming around looking for knives your skin's gonna melt off,” he sensibly pointed out.

“It’s okay.” When she smiled her teeth shone in the fluorescent glow of her hair. “I went swimming a lot when I first came here. I always took Rad-X before and RadAway after…I built up a tolerance over time.”

“Still…pretty big risk to take.”

“Yeah, because everything else in the Commonwealth is as safe as kittens.” The shadow of her eyebrows were visible over the rim of her sunglasses.

“I’ll tell you what,” he noted the sad shrug in her shoulders when she fiddled with her Pip-Boy again, “if we get out of this alive, I’ll take you to a Vault and get it fixed.”

“Wait.” She wasn’t sure if she was ready to go back into a Vault. “There are other Vaults out there?”

She’d only seen two; the one she came from and the one she found Nick Valentine in.

“Yep. With people living in them and everything. What d’ya say?” He held a hand out for her to shake.

He heard her slip, not sure she’d even acknowledged it herself, but he heard it. The word ‘other’. The word that implied she’d been inside one before and at any other moment Deacon would be on his feet screaming ‘I got you bitch’ but even though he couldn’t _see_ it, he could hear the distress in her voice and decided, for now, to let that one go.

“Okay.”

The sound of their palms slapping echoed through the cupboard.

Thirty minutes, and a lot of dead Supermutants, later they were finally on their way back outside when Whisper flipped the script on him.

They could have turned round, gone the way they came. But they were here now, there was no point going back. Besides, it was only a laser tripwire, she could deal with that sort of thing in her sleep. But Deacon probably didn’t know that.

She remembered what Glory had told her, that she had to figure out what were lies and what weren’t. What was real and what was Deacon just playing a part. Glory was right, he really was a fantastic liar.

The way he looked genuinely surprised to see her outside the Library, the honesty in his voice when he told her he’d help get her Pip-Boy fixed. It was hard not to admire him.

But it wasn’t going to stop her from messing with him.

She heard his hesitant breath when she moved towards the tripwire. She appreciated his silent concern. But did he really think she couldn’t disarm a simple tripwire?

Whisper pushed her body against the wall and knelt down at the laser trigger device. She pulled a tiny screwdriver out of her pocket and began to carefully unscrew the side panel.

“Hey Deac, if you were a synth and I knew and you didn’t,” The first screw fell out, “…would you want me to tell you?”

_What?_ This was his lie. Where the fuck was this suddenly coming from?

“That depends,” he took the screw in her hand, “once I learn I’m a synth. Am I okay with it?”

She liked that he was playing along, though she saw his entire body tense when she started speaking.

“Well if history teaches us anything, probably not. It’s for the best I don’t tell you, synths aren’t exactly programmed to follow Asimov’s three laws of robotics.”

“Whosit’s what?” He asked taking the second screw for her.

_She collects everything_. If it wasn’t nailed to the ground she picked it up.

_Definitely part pack mule. Probably a synth._

“Before the War…before everything had to be designed with the ability to kill, Robot’s were created with Asimov’s three laws programmed in.” She placed the head of the screwdriver under the panel and carefully lifted it off, exposing the wires underneath. 

“And how would you know that?” He asked, choosing not to let this particular slip go.

She doesn’t tense up, doesn’t change anything about herself that showed him he’d caught her in the middle of a lie. As far as he could tell from this angle anyway.

“It’s called reading.” She commented before turning her attention back to the mechanism in front of her. “So let’s see…Have you ever intentionally harmed another human being, or allowed one to come to harm?”

She knew what she was doing, she didn’t even have to look. But it was fun to watch Deacon twitch with worry,

“More times than I’d like.” He was pretty sure Whisper should be concentrating on the task at hand.

“Do you obey orders given to you, as long as they do not result in any harm coming to a human being?” She carefully moved each wire to study it.

“I’ve literally no idea what you’ve just asked me.”

_Please concentrate_. Though he had to admire her ability to multitask and they weren’t dead yet.

“Okay. Well then, have you ever tried to preserve your own life without disobeying orders or hurting another human?” She held back a few wire with her screwdriver and reached for her wire cutters when she finally found the correct one.

“I’m all about self-preservation. The rest of the Commonwealth be damned.” He held his breath when she snipped the wire but exhaled a sigh of relief when the laser spurted before turning off completely.

“Well that solves it,” she stood up straight as she admired her work, “you’re definitely not a robot.” She turned to look at him. “Still can’t rule out the possibility of you being a synth though.”

Whisper was probably real impressed with herself.

“So this Vault, where is it?” She was looking at her Pip-Boy again. Secretly hoping it would fix itself.

“Far west of here. Past Diamond City. Just past Chestnut Reservoir.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said far west were you?”

The reservoir was close to the alleyway but she hadn’t been there since she left her note with Daisy.

_Daisy!_

She looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. Where was her head today?

“I need to go to Goodneighbor.”

“I thought you wanted to get your Pip-Boy fixed?”

“I do. But this is more important. ”

“So what’s the deal with travelling at night?”

An easy question to answer and he might get a chance to know something about her.

“There’s no such thing as light-pollution anymore, I can see the stars again.” She reminisced.

She was quick to realise she’d practically hinted she was alive before the war. Deacon didn’t know that. She cleared her throat.

“Plus, it’s easier to hide in the dark. Makes sneaking around a hell of a lot easier.”

“Surprised you can see anything through those sunglasses.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, thankfully Deacon couldn’t see it.

“Pot kettle black!” She chuckled and shoved him slightly.

He barely moved, it was like trying to push a brick wall.

Deacon was easier to talk to than she originally thought, it was just banter really. They were both talking a lot but neither of them were really saying anything.

“Why do I get the feeling Carrington hates me?”

“He was pissed that you went to another doctor.”

Hiding the truth within the truth. She shouldn’t take it personally, the Doc really did hate all of them but it was because of him that Carrington hated Whisper before she even got a chance to piss him off. It was always fun to piss Carrington off, he was going to give a lecture anyway, there was no harm in having a little fun along the way.

“Yeah…about that, how did you know?”

“Know what?” He actually sounded genuine and if she was anyone else she would have believed him. “I just said the first thing that came into my head, luckily for both of us I came up with something that explained why you were gone for so long. What happened, get lost?”

“No,” she replied casually. “Just had a few stops to make along the way, Minutemen walk along the outskirts of the Business District all the time.”

Deacon hid how proud he was of her, her natural ability to lie and throw enough truth in to make it believable. If he hadn’t been behind her the entire time, if he hadn’t been the one to carry her to the gates of Goodneighbor…yeah, he’d believe the General of the Minutemen would check in with her people.

It didn’t feel as weird as she thought it would, it seemed almost natural. Like he belonged there…

Subconsciously she must have got used to him being there. How long had he followed her exactly? That was a question that remained and for the love of god, she could not let her hormones get in the way before she got an answer.

Deacon was an asshole, liked to dress up in his spare time - but beyond that she didn’t know anything about him. Hancock had told her Deacon had been married.

_Didn’t end well_

Neither did hers but she suspected Deacon had faired a little worse than her. Deacon was another person who had their heartbroken, another person who knew what that feeling was like,

It was probably the reason he wore sunglasses. She could imagine the amount of torment he wore in his eyes.

He wasn’t wearing them when he jumped on her, but between the crap lighting in HQ and her sunglasses, she couldn’t see a damn thing and she was too busy concentrating on his body pressed against hers.

No.

She wasn’t going to think about it.

Goodneighbor was closer to HQ than it was anywhere else they wanted to go. But neither of them wanted to go back there, sit in the dark and wait for nothing to happen.

Whisper removed her hat completely as soon as they stepped through the gate. But the sunglasses and bandana remained. He’d seen her hair now, there was no point in her covering it up anymore. He guessed most of Goodneighbor had seen her face.

A fact he was a tad jealous of. He’d only seen it once…and he was pretty far away.

“Sunshine!” Came a raspy, delicate voice.

Deacon watched as the two women hugged. It was real affectionate, like they were family.

Exactly how much time had she spent in Goodneighbor?

“Here,” she tugged at the bracelet on her wrist, “I returned your book and I got this with the tokens. I know it’s silly and crappy but it looks a little prewar.”

“I love it!” Exclaimed Daisy, holding her wrist out in front of her to look at the multicoloured plastic bracelet.

Behind his sunglasses, Deacon’s eyes were wide with shock. It was like watching a mother and daughter interact, Whisper had returned the book and collected the bracelet to give her because she loved Daisy. And judging by the look on the ghoul’s face, Daisy loved her too.

He felt as though it was a moment he shouldn’t be intruding on.

“Daisy, have you heard from Sam?”

“I did, there’s a letter around here somewhere.”

“What did you do? Set up a PO box?” He joked when Daisy walked back into the shop.

“Not quite but if people want to get hold of me, they know I’m here. I’m usually always here.”

Daisy returned with a stack of letters in her hand.

“I thought you said a letter.”

“There’s a note from Preston, telling you to turn on Radio Freedom once in a while. A few of them are from Robert, and this one is from Sam.”

She tucked the other three into her pack and ripped open the letter.

“Okay.” She looked away from the paper, up at him. “We can go to Vault 81 now.”

“Why on earth would you want to go there, dear?”

“I fell over and now I have to get my Pip-Boy fixed.

Deacon watched in fascination, again, as the two women hugged goodbye.

“It’s technically not a lie but Daisy always freaks out when I mention fighting.” She commented on their way back out.

She stared down at the ground bashfully - thankful for the stuff on her face - when Deacon held the door open for her. People opened doors for her all the time, why was she suddenly embarrassed. Why was this six-foot, average looking man making her nervous?

“Like I’m made of glass or something.”

She knew what he was like already, Deacon would have been watching them the entire time. There was no point hiding her relationship with Daisy. And, unless he was going to hurt Daisy, it didn’t really matter and she’d kill him before he got anywhere near Daisy.

But he’d worked out of Goodneighbor, Hancock knew who he was, did Daisy? Okay so she probably didn’t know who the Railroad were, probably didn’t care, but she must have recognised him. He didn’t look all that different. But Daisy didn’t even acknowledge him, not out loud at least.

It took them almost two hours to travel across the Commonwealth towards Vault 81. Usually Deacon spent this time coming up with a plan but Whisper didn’t say a word.

On the other side of the reservoir she stopped him. She took off her hat as she bent down to the ground. Two hands were quickly covering dirt over his face and before he could voice his protests, Whisper turned around to take off her bandana, applied dirt to her own face and ran off ahead of him.

When she was speaking into the intercom he was stood at an angle, just able to catch glimmers of her face. He was confused when he saw a tear appear from underneath her sunglasses.

Was she really that upset about her Pip-Boy?

“Please…M-my name’s Alice…This is my broth-brother, Billy. We’re…we’re looking for our sister and the only way I can find her is through my Pip-Boy.” Her shoulders quaked and she wiped away tears.

Maybe not.

Deacon knew from experience that people found it hard to lie, not everyone could control the movements their body made when they were lying through their teeth. He’d learnt what to look for, the twitch in the shoulder, the shuffling of a leg or two, the little facial movements people can’t control.

But Whisper showed none of that. Sure she was upset about her Pip-Boy but it wasn’t just that, she was really good at lying; it seem to come naturally to her.

“I…it broke when we were outrunning vicious mongrels.” Now the dirt on his face made sense. “I just need someone…to…to fix it!” she wailed and buried her face in her hands.

The Overseer welcomed them with open arms, literally she had her arms outstretched and hugged Whisper, who just pretended to cry even harder. Deacon just stared down at the floor, he was hoping he looked sad but it was only because he didn’t want them to see the smile of his face. This was the first time he’d seen what Whisper was really capable of and it was incredible to watch, she was a fantastic liar.

Just like him.

A small boy, whose name Deacon hadn’t been paying attention to, had offered to show them around whilst someone worked on her Pip-Boy. She rubbed her wrist soothingly as they walked around, her wrist felt almost naked without it. It was different when she took it off willingly.

It wasn’t a total lie, he could tell by the way she held onto her now bare wrist that she was really upset. He resisted the urge to hug her as her body shook uncontrollably. They were lucky that it just looked like she was upset about their ‘lost sister’.

_Wait a second…_

She had labelled him as her brother the moment she spoke on the intercom. A brother would wrap an affectionate around his crying sister, right?

_Wow, this just reached a whole new level of creepy._ And yet his arm was moving to rest around her neck.

He suspected that the real Whisper would have punched him by now but she was too deep in character that she simply just leant into him and his eyes popped out of his head when he felt her hand snake around his back and grab his waist.

When the Overseer came back with Whisper’s Pip-Boy, a squeal of delight left her mouth, an actual squeal, and Deacon was surprised she wasn’t jumping up and down. She wasn’t in character when she hugged the Overseer after getting back her perfectly put-together Pip-Boy. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was smiling.

“Thank you so much. We’ll come back when we find our sister.”

Whisper was quick to put her bandana back around her face before turning towards him. And they made their way to the exit.

“You’re not suggesting we kidnap a small girl just to bring her back here?” He questioned when they were out of earshot.

“I know a girl who’s always wanted to see the inside of a Vault.”

Nat, Piper’s sister, was always asking her to take her to one. Piper saw her Pip-Boy immediately (the one and only time she hated it) and even since then the kid had been obsessed. She made some silly excuse when Nat asked her to take her to the one she came from. There was no way that was happening, she wasn’t going back in there until she dead. It only seemed right to be buried in the place she was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that her having hair that glows in the dark is ridiculous but it’s an idea I’ve been stuck on since I started writing this. I mean who really knows what cryogenics can do to the human body? Turn it fluorescent apparently, at least in this fanfic. 
> 
> I changed this mostly so I could write Glory as some sort of matchmaker who is also sick of bullshit. She gets enough of that from Deacon, she really can't handle Whisper being like that too.


	20. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's world is unravelling around him and it's because of Whisper.
> 
> And she's not even doing anything. Or is she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of went on a crazy fluff rampage in this. It works though because it's mainly about Deacon and Whisper summing each other up now I've changed the dynamics of how they start travelling together.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Sweet Dreams - Marilyn Manson.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUvVdTlA23w) Though the original worked too but the words are a little different in his version.)

_Give thy thoughts no tongue._

 

Deacon wasn’t saying a word, out loud at least, fearing that as soon he voiced what was happening Whisper would suddenly realise and run away. Meeting her outside the Library wasn’t the coincidence he thought it was (thanks to Glory), the subsequent trip to Goodneighbor and then Vault 81 was just a causality to what happened inside the Library.

But this, this wasn’t planned or even spoken of, and if Whisper had a problem she certainly wasn’t voicing it. He was assuming that since they worked for the same organisation they were just walking back to HQ together, yet there had been no mention of going back to it.

She was a few yards ahead of him, not enough for him to think she was ignoring him, though she certainly was because she hadn’t said a word to him since they left Vault 81. He figured, given the way she kept looking down at her wrist, she was too lost in thought about her Pip-Boy. He never really understood why the things were so important to Vaulties, wasn’t even sure what use they could possibly be. Until they walked past a toxic waste bin and the thing started clicking like crazy.

_Oh my god, she actually has a geiger counter. And it was actually_  _in the shop._ He didn't think he'd ever been as happy as he was in that moment.

Whatever was happening, he was just counting his blessings whilst he had them. Glad that he got to watch her (and she actually knew he was there this time)…and she was nice to look at.

Not like that…Though, yeah, now he was looking at it, her ass was nice too.

He’d seen her move through the world before, but she’d changed a lot since then. Whisper held herself lower to the ground, hugged walls more and avoided killing whenever she could. Okay so she was like that before, but she seemed more sympathetic in her movements now. Especially when it came to ferals.

Jesus, the woman was like a guardian angel when it came to ferals.

He remembered she was like this when they were on their way to the Switchboard and he’d obliged her movements by not sniping the ones who were asleep but one particularly nasty one was about to lunge at them and Whisper kicked him in the shin before his rifle was even raised. She didn’t kill it until it was trying to bite her leg off, and even then she was nice about it. Deacon was pretty sure he heard her whisper the word ‘sorry’ but he didn’t question it.

Not even ghouls were this nice to ferals.

Her sniper rifle was in her hands, Deliverer was sat in the holster on her thigh…Whisper had real nice legs, skinny but toned. He only knew this because that damn jumpsuit stuck to her body like it was a second skin.

_Look anywhere but her ass_

He shook his head and looked at Whisper, ever thankful for his sunglasses because she definitely would have seen him doing that. But she was faced forward, her back turned toward him. Her ass in his face.

_Stop looking at it._ He was trying to, _really_ he was.

This was the only problem she had with leading. She swore she could smell it when it happened. A tiny part of her brain told her every time MacCready stared at it. Deacon was just like every other man in the Commonwealth.

She couldn’t deny that she smiled when she first felt him looking, but it had been over an hour now. She shouldn’t be flattered or take it personally. If her time with MacCready, and the stories Hancock told her, were any indication, people spent a lot of their time fucking each other. Hormones ruled the Commonwealth sometimes.

At first he thought the hand on her hat was just readjusting it out of fear it would fall off her head. But that wasn’t it, every touch meant something. She put her palm on top when she did that but when her fingers brushed the left side of the rim, he was quick to realise she was counting steps with her finger, and when she touched the right side of her hat, she was about to do something she didn’t want to.

Like kill a vicious mongrel before it alerted the whole pack to their presence. The silencer on Deliverer really was a blessing.

They were on the outskirts of the business district, right along the sea line and it took her a second to notice that Deacon was wandering off, right on the direction of…

“Deacon wait!” She shouted a little too desperately.

He ignored her and carried on walking towards the alleyway he’d only just noticed.

“I just wanna see if there’s a- woah.” His sentence was cut short when he almost stood on the pressure plate that was guarding the most fortified alleyway Deacon had ever seen.

He followed the wire and his eyes fell on the rotating blade that hid just out of view; extremely relieved he didn’t step on the plate. There were machine gun turrets on every corner and a spring loaded trap just as he turned into the main section.

_Why on earth would someone go to this much trouble for a fucking alleyway?_

Whisper was just as quiet, just as fascinated by their surroundings. Though he did not fail to notice how awkward she also looked.

_I should give that man a raise._

She was really impressed, Sam had outdone himself. He wrote that he only set up a few defences - he was underselling himself; again. She narrowly avoided standing on the pressure plate she didn’t see, and when her eyes fell on the blade in the corner she was glad she hadn’t stepped on it. The air filled with the sounds of turrets scanning the area.

Deacon was thwarted from going any further by a large metal door, connected to a terminal. Not wanting to waste a second he set about trying to crack it.

She leant against a nearby wall and watched him, her hand thumbing the piece of paper in her pocket. She could just step forward, could just tell him it was hers…but it was nice to see him sweat for a change.

_For fuck sake_.

Deacon will _never_ put it down to old age, or inexperience, because to this day there wasn’t a terminal that he couldn’t crack. But this one was becoming damn near impossible. After about five minutes, having been locked out countless times, he was about ready to smash his way in. Then Whisper came to his rescue.

“Let me try it,” she said gently, pushing him aside.

“I’ve tried every combination I can think of, but hey, if you really think you’re _that_ good.”

“I know I am,” she stated sincerely before keying in the correct code. The day he came to her door, over two hundred and ten years ago. As if she could forget it, as if Sam would use _any other_ code.

Deacon couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open when he heard the familiar sound of a door unlocking.

_You’ve got to be shitting me._

He put his lower jaw back in its rightful place and followed her inside. She seemed way too calm for his liking, considering they had no idea what was on the other side.

He watched as she knelt down and peeled her pack off her shoulder. She unzipped the front compartment and delved inside. A few seconds of rummaging around and her hand came back out, a small metal implement caught between her fingers.

Whisper moved her bandana slightly, put it between her lips and blew. Deacon didn’t hear anything.

“I think your whistle’s broken.” He pointed out.

“You’re not supposed to hear anything. It’s for Dogmeat.”

“Dez is going to kill you if he’s making a fuss.”

The boss did not like animals at the best of times, let alone a dog that was probably scratching at the door to follow the sound of his owner.

“Glory knows what to do.” She stated. “And Dogmeat knows where to go.” 

Glory knows what to do…Exactly how much had the two of them talked about? Whisper had spent time with all of them, getting to them inside and out, and he’d noticed how much time her and Glory spent huddled together. He had no idea two people could talk for so long.

_Women._

The makeshift den the Raiders had built was gone, along with the pile of their burnt out corpses. She looked to her right, towards the door to the adjacent building, and immediately eyed the steamer trunk against the wall.

Deacon watched as she tipped almost the entire contents of her pack into a nearby steamer trunk.

“So this is one of yours I take it?” he asked, hiding the fact he was pissed off that she just stood there whilst he struggled to open the door. He knew cracking that terminal was way too easy.

“Sort of.” She replied, watching screws and wire rain down from her pack, followed by a large clunk when two hotplates fell out.

How long had they been in there?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the sign on the wall, she smiled at the old prewar WC sign, the male and female figures underneath. Sam really needed a raise. Of course she needed to start paying him first but he told her she didn’t need to, no matter how much she insisted. He didn’t do it because he had to, he did because she asked him to; and not just because she was the General.

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?” He asked, his eyes scanning over every part of the fortified fortress they found themselves in.

“It’s mine, but not ‘Minutemen affiliated’.”

“Are you telling me that the _General_ of the Minutemen is keeping secrets from her own people?”

_Lots actually_. “It’s not like that, but being in charge has got to have its benefits right?”

“So did you do _all this_ ,” he gestured around them, “by yourself?”

She shook her head.“Just because they don’t know why I’m asking them to do something, doesn’t mean they won’t do it regardless.”

“Huh.” Deacon continued to walk around the small alleyway. It was small, had two entrances…only the hardest terminal known to man (if you didn’t know the fucking passcode) keeping everyone out. It was a good place to hide if one ever found themselves in a tight spot…and just happened to be in the area.

His eyes fell on the chalked drawing on the wall. “Hangman?”

Yep, that definitely took her by surprise. How the hell did he…?

“Yeah,” and she knew the shock in her voice was not disguised well. “You play?”

She blew her whistle one more time, knowing that by now Glory had let him out of the escape tunnel and he’d be smart enough to talk the safe passage they’d cleared out. The final blow of the whistle was just to tell him she was where he’d think she’d be. 

As she put the whistle back in her pocket she turned her attention back to Deacon, realising that on second thought, it didn’t surprise her all that much. He quoted Shakespeare and read old-world books. There wasn’t anyone, besides Daisy and the ghouls at the Slog, that talked about pre-war literature.

“Not for years,” he examined the drawing in front of him. “Looks like someone’s tried to make a guess.”

She turned her attention to the wall and noticed the chalked ‘A’. Smiling, she picked up the piece of chalk and put the letter ‘A’ above the corresponding lines.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I thought you said you played this game?”

“I do, just figured you’d find me too irresistible to say no to.”

She openly snorted at that and Deacon wasn’t sure whether he was amused or insulted.

“Afraid not, you’re not my type.”

Deacon knew exactly what her type was. About five foot five, brown hair covered by a green cap and had a mercenary - ‘I kill people for a living’ - look.

“If you want to know what it says, play the game.” She suggested, holding out the piece of chalk, silently daring him to even so much as try.

_Funny, I thought we were playing one already_ , he thought as he took the chalk from her. 

He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not (though with her the former was more likely) but her now bare fingers brushed over his palm and he felt himself fly a little. Hopefully, not enough that she noticed.

He held the chalk to the wall, ready to make his guess.

“What do I do again?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t do that.” Out his peripheral he could see her shake her head, her arms moved to fold in front of her chest and the resemblance, despite having her face completely covered, to Dez was uncanny.

“So…do I just tell you? Or do I have to write it down?”

“It-It doesn’t matter.” she sighed, her head falling to rest in her hand that was up in frustration.

Deacon actually felt electricity run up his shine. _Everyone’s got buttons._

_Pain. In. The. Fucking. Ass_. She was two minutes away from shooting him in the back and running off to Castle. Sure, the Railroad would come for her eventually but she had a whole army to support her. _Everything he does is intentional_. She had to keep reminding herself. _This is what he does, he watches - studies - until he knows everything about you._

This was the juvenile crap Glory had warned her about.

He turned his attention to the wall, his childish attitude on hold, and properly looked at the wall in front of him.

Three words. First word…Seven letters. Second word…Nine letters. Third word…Eleven letters.

“Is the sequence meant to mean something?” He asked, genuinely intrigued this time.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, moving to stand closer to the wall.

“Seven, nine, eleven.” He moved his hand as he spoke, pointing at each line.

“Huh,” she seemed genuinely surprised at this revelation. “I never noticed before.”

Okay, so it was something important enough to her for it to be the first thing she thought of but not so important she studied every part of it. Three, _rather_ long words…so it wasn’t a sentence.

Underneath his sunglasses, Deacon’s eyes popped out of his head. _It’s her name. It’s her fucking name!_

That right there was enough to suck him into the game, for life, or at least until he figured it out. Whichever came first.

“Are you going to make a guess or what?” She asked after a few minutes of silence.

“How about you take my turn instead?” He turned, almost hopeful that she’d given him a leg up. The letter ‘a’ written four times wasn’t much to go on.

“That’s hardly fair, I mean I _know_ what the word is.”

_Exactly._

“I’ll just pick the wrong letter and kill you quicker.” The tone of her voice made him wonder if the ‘you’ she was talking about was ‘you’ as in the figure on the board, or ‘you’ as in him.

“Spoilsport,” he joked. Actually, it wasn’t all that much of a joke, he was secretly a little disappointed. 

Though, not exactly surprised.

“Okay, hmmm,” he was giving it some serious thought. From what he remembered, people usually went for vowels first - hence the letter ‘a’ being the first one written - there was only one logical letter he _could_ choose. The most common letter in the damn alphabet.

Slowly he drew a large ‘E’ underneath the ‘A’.

“Ooh,” she hissed, before moving around him as she took the chalk out of his hand. 

When she was finished writing the letter above its line Deacon took a second to make a mental image.

First word, ‘A’ written twice - over second and fifth line - letter ‘E’ written once, next to second ‘A’. Second word, ‘A’ written once, second line in. ‘E’ twice, fifth and seventh line. Third word, one ‘A’, third letter in and no ‘E’.

Now he only had twenty-four more letters to go.

“Could be worse, there’s always some poor sod who guesses ‘X’,” she turned to look at him and, not for the first time, Deacon wanted to rip all that crap off her face and _actually_ see what was underneath. A crappy tv screen and a five hundred yard distance told him literally nothing.

He wasn’t sure if it was a hint or not. Probably not, how many people have an ‘x’ in their name?

_You mean, beside Xavier? Trixie? Roxanne? Maxwell? I could go on…_

_Yes, yes alright._ He’d wait a while, maybe take a stab a few more common letters first before throwing himself in the deep end.

Who was he kidding - _Only yourself_ \- he was in the deep end the moment they walked into the library together, hell, the moment she walked out of that Vault. 

“Well, you keep staring at the wall, and I’ll start a fire.”

When he didn’t respond she tutted and walked away.

She worked all starting a fire in an old trashcan, her eyes periodically looking over at Deacon, who was glued to the wall.

She wondered if he’d taken note of the names she chose (probably, the man took note of everything). The name Alice meant nothing to him, but if Deacon had been there - and she knew he had - the name Billy would ring through his ears. But she’d been too busy worrying about her Pip-Boy to pay attention to what he was doing.

She hadn’t forgotten what he’d done. She still hated him for it. Deacon was just lucky Billy hadn’t seen it.

A frantic, familiar bark snapped her back to reality, followed by scratching at the door.

“If you mess up the paintwork Sam will kill you,” she joked as she moved to unlock the door.

She was down on one knee by the time he came bounding in and she almost fell on her ass when he lunged at her.

“Calm down.” 

He sat back on his legs, his tail waggling with joy behind him and he stared at her. Behind her she heard Deacon cough and looked at the same time Dogmeat did to the man _still_ looking at the wall.

_I think he’s taking it a little too seriously. There’s always one that does…_

Dogmeat looked at her in curiosity, a sound to match, his head repeatedly tilting in Deacon’s direction.

“Yeah, you got what you wanted boy,” she smiled as she got to her feet. “Now, go fetch.”

She gestured him towards Deacon and he happily went running up to him. She watched in amusement when Deacon was caught off guard and crashed to the ground.

_Serves you fucking right_.

Okay, so yeah, Dogmeat _definitely_ liked him. Deacon was sure of it this time because he was starting to wonder if it was possible to get licked to death.

“Dogmeat!” She commanded once it stopped being funny and he stopped immediately, allowing Deacon to stand up and run his hands down his saliva covered face in disgust.

His t-shirt didn’t fair too well either.

He was too busy looking down at him, throwing the occasional frown in Dogmeat’s direction, and he didn’t notice was in front of him until she thrusted a t-shirt under his face.

“Here,” she barely allowed time for him to take a hold of it before letting go and Deacon had to fumble to keep it from hitting the ground.

And he knew she’d done it just to embarrass the crap out of him, it was the whole reason she let the dog run up to him in the first place. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your view, Deacon had been in far more precarious situations than this.

He held the offered t-shirt between his knees as he peeled (literally _peeled)_ his favourite (what was once) white t-shirt off his body.

_Hey there Delilah._

Her eyes were wide behind her sunglasses, her eyebrows far beyond the band of her hat and her jaw was on the floor. Figuratively of course because her jaw was actually too busy sucking her lip in-between her teeth and she had to bite down just to keep the animalistic groan from leaving her.

At first she thought it might be another costume, something he wore to seduce a mark, but there were no visible lines and the contour of _everything_ was too perfect to be fake. _This_ was how he seduced a mark, how he could go from seemingly average to a goddamn superhero in the blink of an eye. Every part of his upper body that was toned was covered by his t-shirt.

It was something she was beginning to notice more and more about him. _He’s full of surprises._

She was quick to turn around, thankful that her face was completely covered, and went back to stoking the fire.

Yes, stoking the fire seemed like the sensible thing to do in this situation.

_I think you’ve stoked that fire enough._ Came a voice after five minutes of silence.

Mattresses. They needed somewhere to sleep didn’t they? Because, by the looks of things, they weren’t going back to HQ any time soon and there was no way she was sleeping on ground _this_ rough.

She was grateful for Sam once again when she noticed the small pile under the archway behind her and practically ran over to grab two.

“It’s okay, I can do it myself.” She joked as she dropped the mattresses on the ground.

Deacon swore he heard her dog laugh too.

She’d placed them close together, but still far away enough that they wouldn’t be touching. Deacon felt uneasy, out on the road he was used to sleeping in turns, it was rare he found himself somewhere so fortified that he didn’t need to keep watch. He was confused about how he felt about Whisper already, he’d been dying to travel with her. Sleeping with her was completely different.

_Will you listen to yourself? This is practically the same amount of distance you sleep away from Tom._

Yes, they were but there was almost barriers as well. Desks, chairs, _walls_ and, more importantly, there were _people_ there. Deacon felt like he was going to be sick, he was getting what he wanted and - if his history had taught him anything - he was going to eventually fuck it up.

Against her better judgement she turned the dial of her newly-fixed Pip-Boy and turned on Diamond City Radio.

“…and it’s all thanks to the Vault-“

She quickly turned the dial again and sounds of Mozart filled the empty silence.

_Shut up._

Now she was definitely pissed at Deacon. At first, she always thought it had been Piper, that was hard enough to stomach - the woman was a bloody reporter so she wasn’t that surprised that Piper couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But it hadn’t been her. Of all the people it could have been, telling Travis every little detail of her life, it was Deacon - a man who made his living as a spy. The man who never stopped talking, who lied more than he told the truth. Surely he knew how important secrets were?

Ten minutes later she shoved a small metal tin, harder than necessary, under his nose and left him to eat alone. He ignored his food and continued to watch her as she sat turned away from him, the dog looking at her food expectantly.

“Here.” He heard her laugh before pushing her own metal tin at the dog, who stuck his nose into happily and, very loudly, began to eat its contents.

His breath got stuck in his throat as she unwrapped the bandana from around her face, and he just wished she would turn around. But she didn’t - he hardly expected her to - she sat facing away from him and he heard her shuffle against the ground as she tried to find something in her pocket. The dog in front of her barked with joy, his tail wagging uncontrollably, when she held up a small rubber ball.

“Sit.” She commanded and he watched as the dog bent his back legs and his rear touched the ground; his eyes fixated on the ball in her hand. “Good boy!”

She rewarded him by rubbing her hand on the top of his head.

“Now…stand.”

The dog lifted himself into the air, standing on his hind legs and jumped around in a circle as he tried to balance himself. His tongue hung out of his mouth as he righted himself and stared expectantly up at her, his tail still wagging uncontrollably.

“You’re getting better at this.”

Deacon heard her laugh and watched as she gently tossed the ball at the ground and the dog caught it in his mouth when it bounced in his direction. He laid down on the ground, his paws keeping the ball close to him as he ran his teeth along the rubber.

He turned away back towards the fire as she turned back around and picked up her bandana again. Out of his peripheral he watched as she tied it back around her face and got to her feet. She brushed off the dirt off her trousers, slapping hard against her rear and a faint dust cloud appeared around her.

He was secretly disappointed when she kicked the other mattress further away from him. But she didn’t sit on it, instead she waltzed over to his and sat down next to him. He shuffled uncomfortably.

"Got the hang of the Railroad yet? We’re just one big dysfunctional family... with guns!" He offered a smile.

She chuckled a little. He still liked the sound of it.

“I think so…I’ve gotten to know everyone pretty well.”

_Except me._ Which he knows was her intention.

“It’s just…Well, how do you deal with the boredom?”

“Just do what I do, make your own entertainment.”

“You mean like steal someone’s wig?”

“Or maybe just suggest a nice game of chess?”

It was the first time they’d brought it up since it happened. Surprisingly it wasn’t actually that awkward. If her original assumption was right, Deacon knew full well that she came from a Vault but she hadn’t lied when she said she found her Pip-Boy. Sure, everyone in Vault 81 seemed to have one to call their own, but she’d found hers on the wrist of a melting skeleton moments before she stepped out into the world for the first time in over two-hundred years. Technically, she _did_ find it.

“About that,” his hand went to rub the back of his neck and he internally punches himself for letting his arm even bend. “Sorry, feel kinda bad for taking it now I know why you have it.”

“Deacon.” She warned.

“Shit-sorry. Won’t mention it again,” he ran his fingers over his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

“Then why are you still talking?”

“Because they’re only sealed when it comes to…the thing we dare not speak of.”

Her laugh was genuine. Maybe a little childish humour was good for the soul every now and then.

She could feel Deacon’s eyes on her as she reached into her pack and pulled out an old issue of Astoundingly Awesome Tales.

"I'm a fan of Grognak myself.” He commented, his eyes reading the title. “What will that wacky barbarian do next?"

“In that case,” she delved into her pack again and pulled out another comic. “Here.”

“‘Revenge of the Man-Saurian’?” He read the title. “Man, I thought this issue got lost in the War.”

“Just don’t rip the pages - that thing’s going to be worth a lot of caps some day.” She laughed harshly.

They sat in silence, heads buried in their comic books, completely ignoring each other.

She couldn’t concentrate, she’d read the same line about ten times now, she was too busy thinking how comfortable their mutual silence was. She didn’t even feel with comfortable around MacCready and she loved him. She was only just beginning to tolerate Deacon. She had to remind herself repeatedly that he was still the asshole who followed her around. The asshole who stole from her.

But the more she tried to concentrate on that thought, the more it was lost on her. They’d been travelling together-

_We are not travelling together. We are just two people going back to work._

_Yet, here you are. Ready to sleep with him in a place you told yourself no one would know about._

_I am NOT sleeping with him._

_The fact that you’re letting me get to you is proving my point._

_What the hell is going on with me?_

She yawned and stretched. She turned to say goodnight to Deacon and got up before she had a chance to think about him anymore. She didn’t have dreams like everyone else, nothing happened when she was asleep. For which she was grateful. God knows what her subconscious would be telling her behind closed eyes.

A lifetime in the Commonwealth had taught him to be a light sleeper, usually sleeping with one eye open, so he was instantly awake when he felt a small pressure on his back. He rolled over to see Whisper sat next to him, at some point she’d moved her mattress closer to his, she was half-naked, in nothing but a tank-top and a pair of black lace underwear. she was leaning back on her hands, her legs butterflied out in front of her and the soles of her feet touching.

“Hey Deac,” Her voice was low; seductive.

He loved his nickname, especially coming out of a mouth that perfect.

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat as he sat up.

His eyes fell onto her feet and followed the trail of her bare legs to her incredible strong thighs, all the way up to her exposure that was covered perfectly by her underwear. He wanted to rip them off her and bury his head between her legs

“Did you know that there are ten erogenous zones?” She teased.

What the hell?

She parted her feet just long enough for one of them to rub against his thigh. He looked down at her movement in disbelief. She smiled, the sexiest fucking smile he’d ever seen, and he knew what she wanted. He was ninety-eight percent certain that he was dreaming, but it seemed real enough. And he was happy just to go along with it.

If it was a dream he didn’t want to wake up. Not until he was buried inside her at least.

“There’s more than ten.” He retorted as he got to his knees and he heard the hitch in her breath when he moved closer to her. “You’re just thinking about the obvious ones.”

With bravery he wasn’t sure was his own, he positioned his hands on the ground either side of her and she fell backwards slightly as he balanced his body over hers. Big brown eyes, dark with arousal, stared up at him. Her stare cut through the safety of his sunglasses and he could feel her eyes burning into his soul. She sucked her bottom lip in-between her teeth when she looked at his mouth.

“The idea,” she gasped when he leant in further, “is to work your way up to the more obvious ones, to leave them a mess before you’ve even started.” His voice was deep, raspy and he knew he needed to clear his throat but considering the effect it was having on her, he resisted the urge.

“Show me.” She whispered, her voice heavy with wanting need.

He’d thought about it, he was still a man, he’d had thoughts like this about every woman he knew. Mostly because there was bugger-all else to do and jacking off, in the privacy of whatever hovel would have him, let him waste at least a few minutes. Des was not fun to thinking about at all, she was boring - barely moved, barely made a sound. And he thought of Glory too much like a sister to even try to imagine it. Magnolia was a big old flirt, knew all the right words to say and he would be lying if he said he never thought about fucking her against the bar. But this was Whisper, he shouldn’t even be thinking about her like this.

But still, he found himself putting his weight on one arm, he took his hand off the ground and ran it along the expose skin just under her top, she raised an eyebrow at him when his hand slipped under the fabric and travelled up her hot skin. The mound of her breast hit his fingertips and he cupped it for a second before running his fingers over one erect nipple. She gasped at the feeling and her head fell back beyond her shoulders with a gut-wrenching groan when he took it between his fingers and twisted.

He could barely fit his hand around her breasts, they were huge. Far too big to belong on a body this small.

She lifted her head back up to follow his movements as he sat back on his knees and let the hand that had been supporting him do to the other breast what his first hand was still doing. He twisted both nipples between his fingers and the aroused scream that left her mouth made his cock twitch. She gave a disappointed moan when he slowly moved his hands back down her stomach and let them come out from underneath her top. Once again, he planted them on the ground either side of her and leant forward. He trailed his teeth along her jawline before travelling down her throat, he swirled his tongue harshly against her pulse point before nibbling it gently with his teeth. How she groaned when he did that.

He barely made it to number four before she was laying naked on the ground, his name leaving her mouth as he thrusted into her. Her hands were on every part of him they could reach, almost to the point he thought she had more than two. She felt so good wrapped around him, a part of him was still wondering if it was a dream, how easily she screamed underneath him, and a part of him was wondering why he was giving a shit. They came together, her walls pulsating around him, milking him so hard that he couldn’t control himself and he spurted inside her.

He was pretty sure he fell asleep with his body pressed against hers but when he woke up the next morning, Whisper was completely dressed in the clothes she’d fallen asleep in, and her mattress was a safe distance away.

Maybe it was a dream after all.

“Did you even sleep?” She asked when she was finally awake.

Deacon looked as though he’d been up for hours. He didn’t respond.

“Deac?” She shrugged when he didn’t answer again.

He was too lost in his own head, he didn’t usually remember his dreams. Not since before meeting Whisper anyway. But this was different. He remembered every little detail. The warmth of her skin under his touch, how her body felt wrapped around his. The way she screamed as he fucked her…He remembered it all.

He was praying it was just a dream, that it was a one-off, but praying never did do him much good.

The second time it happened they were in HQ, she sat on the desk in front of him, half-naked, and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her. Her eyes were blue this time.

“Are you gonna finish what you started?” She whispered into his ear.

Her hand slid down into his trousers, past his underwear and he groaned when she wrapped her hand around his half-erect dick. He made it to number five that time before she was bent over the desk and he was pounding into her. No one in HQ seemed to be reacting to what they were doing, he was certain that this time was definitely a dream.

But again, he awoke on the floor, on his usual mattress - Whisper was asleep on her own mattress in the hallway. He was exhausted, he felt as though he’d had sex but the tightness in his jeans told him another story. She didn’t act any differently around him, neither confirming or denying his silent question.

The next time they were in a rented room in Bunker Hill, where he didn’t remember travelling, and she pushed him against the wall as soon as the door closed behind them. She was on her knees in front of him, her fingers wrapped around his hardness; he couldn’t recall her pushing his jeans and underwear down but there they were, gathered at his ankles. Bright green eyes looked up at him and she winked as she ran her tongue along the slit of his head. He groaned at the feeling.

He was sure it was a dream when she unhinged her jaw and took all of him into her mouth with ease. Her appreciative moans vibrated through him, her head bobbed up and down and her tongue felt incredible as it swirled around his entire length. He looked down and bit his lip when he saw the lipstick stains her mouth left against him.

Her mouth was unforgiving and his orgasm came as a surprise but he pushed her further down against him, her nose pressed against his groin, and he felt himself spill inside her mouth. Her throat convulsed and her wiped her mouth when she pulled away from him.

_ Christ. _

It seemed to happen every time he closed his eyes, as if Whisper came to life when he was asleep and he got one zone closer every time before she was begging for him again. Her clothes, and her body, remained the same but the colour of her eyes were different every time she looked at him; he’d gone through every colour, even the ones he was pretty sure he was making up. At one point she even had one blue and one green. He couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. But again, Whisper seemed the same as always. Maybe it was all in his head.

But it feel so real; every time. He could remember vividly the words she whispered in his ear, the feeling of her sweat soaked skin against his; how she felt when she was wrapped around his dick. He wanted it to happen again, and he wanted to wake up the next morning with her still pressed up against him. When he was awake, and they were wandering the Commonwealth, he could barely look at her, every time he did, images of what happened after dark flashed through his mind. Reality seemed to be unravelling around him the more time he spent with her.

This was what he was afraid of, he was fucking it up already and he was in serious trouble if he didn't snap out of it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I had to keep the ridiculous, poor excuse for smut in because the idea had been in my head since the beginning and I put some effort into figuring them out.
> 
> I was going to stretch out the whole 'it's her name' thing but I figure Deacon is good at figuring shit out (just not his own) and I want to give him a bit of a 'Sherlock Holmes' vibe, which comes in handy during a later chapter. 
> 
> Avid readers of this will realise that the whole 'seeing underneath his t-shirt' thing happens later. SOrry guys, gonna have to take it out now. Hey there Delilah is (obviously) the song but is also a line in the Netflix series Bojack Horseman when Diane sees Mr Peanut Butter's abs for the first time and I've always loved that line.
> 
> I go really internal dialogue crazy in this, not going to lie I was pretty high when I wrote it (especially the parts where I interrupted my own writing) but I still find it super funny so it's not going anywhere.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, thanks for sticking with me. You guys keep me going =]


	21. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Whisper go on their first Railroad mission together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The terribly translated languages start in this chapter. Sorry!
> 
> (Chapter Title: [A Change of Heart - The 1975](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trbwqF0d7NA&list=RDtrbwqF0d7NA))

****_I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire._

 

At first she wondered what the hell was wrong with him, then she was wondering why she cared.

_And he was being so smooth last night._

She was up early, mainly because she always was, but this time it came from completely forgetting her surroundings.

It was an unfamiliar weight next to her that opened her eyes. There was a moment of confusion when she stared at the back of the man’s bald head, and she moved her own to get a better look at his face.

Why the hell was Deacon asleep next to her? And where the hell were they?

The familiar, welcomed, weight of the Pip-Boy on her wrist helped to answer every question she had. They walked into Boston Library together, they went to Vault 81 together after she broke her Pip-Boy. Then they were travelling (together) back…

Back where?

There had been no mention of going back to HQ, no conversation about where they were headed. They were just travelling…together.

She was up on her feet, looking around for _anything_ that could help. Help with what exactly, she didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that she had to get as far away from him as possible.

Although, now she’d leant over and seen his face whilst he slept…

_He hides literally nothing_.

The only things she couldn’t read were those that went to seek refuge even the safety of his sunglasses. Not, as she readjusted the ones on her face, that she was in a place to judge.

They got back to HQ in record time, (in all honesty she practically ran there). There hadn’t even been a conversation, let alone a suggestion (and if there had been it certainly hadn’t come from her) but they were walking through the door of HQ and everything else was white noise when Drummer Boy ran up to her.

“Carrington’s been looking for you.”

“Yes!” She whispered and fist pumped the air, once Drummer Boy had disappeared.

Finally, a real Railroad mission.

Then Carrington was talking to _both_ of them, as if they were going on the mission together. She looked over at Deacon, he’s been a little off since he woke up, barely said a word and she would have welcomed it, if she knew the reason behind his sudden behaviour change.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Glory and - _motherfucker -_ could read the smug look on her face from where she was stood, even in the terrible lighting of the war room.

Realising that maybe Glory had pointed Deacon towards the Library, rather than him _following_ her there, she decided that travelling together - well, doing this one mission together - wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Hindsight really was a bitch.

“Were you listening to Carrington when he said where we need to go?” Deacon asked as soon as they were back outside, because he certainly hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy swimming in dreams he weren’t sure were dreams and his eyes were too busy staring at her ass, watching it bounce slightly as she walked.

_Pervert._

He could barely stop himself before, but ever since that first night his eyes were practically glued to it. And he was pretty sure she knew it too because she kept trying to make it as flat as possible and she wasn’t sneaking as low to the ground anymore.

“I already know where we’re going, I’ve met Stockton before. He pretty much lives in Bunker Hill.”

“We’re going there again?”

“‘Again’? We’ve not been there once…”

He saw her eyebrow briefly rise above the rim of her sunglasses before disappearing. He couldn’t stop the words escaping, but at least he knew that particular ’session’ had been a dream. He still wasn’t sure about the rest of them though.

This is what she meant by Deacon being a bit off.

It was like he was unravelling, and whilst it was fun to watch (because that’s what she had planned for him to do this whole time) she couldn’t help but wonder what had suddenly brought it on. She hadn’t said or done anything to make him feel this.

She’d only seen him like this once before, when they were leaving the Switchboard. But as soon as they got in a fight he went back to his normal self.

Not this time.

It had been up to her to fill the air and when she ran out of silly little anecdotes they continued to travel in silence. A silence that was a little more awkward this time around.

“Are you going to help?” She asked from behind her hiding place.

A small team of Gunners were patrolling the road they needed to head down. She could turn around, go back the way she came, but the Minutemen safe route was less than ten minutes away in this direction and she was officially too annoyed to change her route now.

So far, she’d singlehandedly taken out three of the seven Gunners. Deacon seemed to be lost inside his head today, like he had been for a while now.

_What the hell is wrong with him?_

A close shave with a bullet seemed to bring him back into reality and she will never admit to whose gun the shot actually came from. He was just lucky the shot missed, intentionally or otherwise.

“Uhhh sorry.” He turned and raised his rifle. “Insert something Shakespearean involving death and your inevitable doom here."

It was like he wasn’t even trying anymore.

“Are you okay?” She asked when all the Gunners were dead.

“I’m fine, kid.”

The first time she heard it her fists clenched automatically and she suddenly realised why it bothered MacCready so much.

She would give them their due, the children of the Commonwealth probably didn’t grow up easy, but she doubted that even Deacon grew up the way she did. She’d only ever been called a kid once in her life, when she was seventeen, and that was by some military official. A knife wound and three days in hospital stopped anyone from calling her one again.

_Should’ve aimed lower._

“Stockton?”

_Some people just don’t change._ Same stall, same tired old suit, same tired old face.

“Hmm?” The man looked up from the counter and looked at her. “Oh it’s you, here to swindle me out of more caps?”

She probably should have briefed Deacon on her first interaction with the man. Though she knew he’d probably overheard the whole conversation anyway, considering he’d been right there. She took a sidewards glance at the wall she’d seen him leaning against - before she realised it was him.

A little fact they had yet to discuss.

The term ’swindle’ was a bit harsh. The old man had been all-too-happy to give them to her from where Deacon was standing. Old Man Stockton had practically begged her to take the caps he was offering and she’d been quick to give more than half of them to the mercenary behind her.

The man she still wasn’t mentioning.

“Actually I was wondering if you had a spare geiger counter? Mine’s in the shop.”

Okay, so she ended up saying both of their lines but he needed to know she was there on official business.

The raise of his eyebrows told her his first thought. _Seriously?_ And she nodded in response before his mouth said a word.

“You?”

_Me, the woman who ‘swindled’ you out of two-hundred caps._

His eyes scanned over her.

_So yeah, you’d better believe I know how to use the gun you’re staring at._ She moved to stand back on her right foot, bending her left knee in his direction to cement her point.

“I was expecting someone a bit more…”

More what? She had plenty of guns on her, and he certainly knew she had a mouth on her. If he said taller she would be responsible for her actions.

Fortunately for him, Stockton let the sentence trail off there before moving on to business.

“You’re with our mutual friends?”

“Let’s say I am…”

_That’s right, don’t let yourself get caught in a trap you can’t get out of._

Whisper never trusted anyone, Deacon knew where she was coming from. Sometimes it was difficult to see past all the lies. Sometimes it was all you ever saw. 

“All you need to know is this is the first stop for all our new…packages.”

She was hoping he was just speaking covertly and didn’t really consider synths as packages.

“So maintaining proper security here and preventing any unnecessary delays is crucial.”

She considered Stockton the only unnecessary delay.

_Just shut up and tell me what I need to do._

Now she knew how Dogmeat felt every time she left him behind. She’d been itching to go on a real mission since walking into the Old Church.

“No one likes delays.” She replied pointedly.

“It’s bad for business.” He smoothed out the creases of his jacket as he moved around the counter. “My current ‘package’ has been in my possession far too long. I’m suppose to deliver it to someplace nearby. But raiders have complicated matters. So if you could…?”

That’s why they were there? Seriously? To clear the path for the other agents.

_Cannon fodder_. That’s what she was being considered.

She hated Desdemona already.

“So I’m just wiping out a few raiders?”

Deacon could hear the annoyance in her voice. Whisper had a point; they were better than that.

“I like you already.” Laughed Stockton

The feeling was not mutual.

“We’re supposed to make the delivery at night. So once you clear out the undesirables, we’ll meet after the sun sets.”

Now that was something she was okay with; she did some of her best work under a blanket of stars.

Cambridge Church had seen better days. A broken piece of the highway had crashed on top of it, but the building was still pretty well kept together - all things considered.

Deacon hadn’t said anything for hours now, to the point she almost forgot he was there. Whatever was going inside his head he wasn’t going to share so she just left him to it.

Though she did have to pull him down next to her when he almost walked straight into the line of fire, and this time the shoot hadn’t come from her like the first may or may not have.

_He’s going to get me killed._

She threw a molotov cocktail in the doorway, took a few shots at the raiders who weren’t inside. Whilst Deacon sat in a dreamworld. When she realised he wasn’t going to help she let out a sigh and leapt out of her hiding spot.

Deliverer was in her left hand, Fury in her right, both arms raised as she let off consecutive shots. Double the bullets, double the firing power…she didn’t need Deacon there at all.

She moved too quickly to let any of them of get a real fix on her. One of them didn’t even realise she was there until she pistol-whipped him around the face.

“You little bitch!” He was holding his cheek, blood seeped out between his fingers.

“Podonok,” she muttered before letting off a round into his head. The church was clear of raiders, now they just had to wait.

She took a seat on one of the pews, her legs were crossed at the knee, her arms folded underneath her chest and she waited for Deacon to walk through the archway.

He did, a few minutes later and she could tell he looked embarrassed, probably a little sorry.

_At least that’s something_.

Okay, so getting stuck inside his own head was putting him - them - in serious danger now. He tried slapping out of it, really he did, but travelling with her, her ass practically in his face the whole time, was killing him. Literally.

Outside the Church, whilst he let Whisper do all the work, he did some thinking. The best thing for him, for them, right now was for him to keep as much distance as possible between them. They were on an _actual_ mission, a real important one too, and he had to do anything he could think of to stop himself from fucking it up.

She watched as he looked around, his eyes fell on the floor, the pews…the ceiling. He was looking at everything except her. He eventually decided to lean against the wall and ignore her. Obviously trying to create as much distance between them as possible; without actually running away.

_What is his fucking problem?_

She’d had enough. She didn’t care that he was distracted, but she did care that she didn’t know why. And now it was causing a real problem. He was going to get them both killed if he carried on like this any longer.

He froze in place, his back to her, when he heard Whisper get to her feet. Slowly he turned and

_ Oh my god, she’s walking over here…holy crap she’s closer. Motherfucker, she’s right in front of me. _

For a misguided second he thought she was about to take off her sunglasses. Nope, she definitely wasn’t going to do that he ultimately decided, not with the anger he could feel radiating off her.

On second thought, maybe ignoring her was a bad idea.

“Look, if I’ve done something, or you don’t want to be here, just tell me.”

He hated how sweet she sounded, in his state of mind he believed it to be genuine, and couldn’t believe she had no idea what she was doing to him.

“I’m fine." He replied casually with a shrug.

She exhaled a chuckle, remembering what the Director had once told her the word stood for. Freaked out. Insecure. Neurotic and Emotional. In this particular instance, yes, she had to agree it really meant that. Because he sure as hell wasn’t okay and she wasn’t all that convinced she didn’t have something to do with it.

_Maybe following me this close is too much for him,_ she thought bitterly.

“Do you need a cigarette?”

She hadn’t seen him smoke since they left HQ, and considering how many cigarette butts she’d seen pooled around his feet, she was surprised he wasn’t clawing at the walls.

“Because I’m sure one of these dead raiders will have a packet on them,” she gestured to the corpses around them ,“even a lighter.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated.

She groaned in frustration.

“Has anyone ever told you what that word actually stands for?” He didn’t say a word and she took it as a no. “Well, they say you can’t teach a dog new tricks.”

The pathetic laugh she was about to express was cut off when Deacon suddenly grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her against the wall.

_What is with this man and pinning me to shit?_

If he was going to keep doing it they were going to need to have a serious talk with Desdemona about sexual harassment in the workplace.

He lifted her hands above her head, pulling her up so far that she had to tighten her thighs around his waist to stop herself from slipping. Her feet dangled in the air behind him.

Her confusion turned to worry when she realised Deacon was just staring at her, not saying a word. She moved her head to the side, desperate to get a read on him. The hands around her wrists tightened and she felt him press his whole body against hers.

For a moment she thought he was about to kiss her and, in a slip of reality, she wondered if she would stop him.

A loud throat clearing stumbled them both back into the present.

Simultaneously, they both looked towards the doorway where Stockton, and another man, were stood. Deacon released his grip on her wrists and she slid down the wall until her feet hit the floor.

_I like him_ came Nora’s voice in her head.

_You would._ She was happy that everything on her face hid the mortification she felt at being seen like that. It wasn’t something someone in her line of work did.

That was a lie, the people she grew up with found comfort in contact with another person from a young age. It started with kids innocently sleeping head to toe in the same bed and then, well hormones got involved, and everything got a little more graphic from there.

“We can come back later if you are busy?” Stockton asked rhetorically.

_If Stockton tells Desdemona about this I’m going to kill both of them._

“No,” she shot a sidewards glance at Deacon as she walked towards them. “I’m not busy. Who’s this?” She asked, turning her attention to the young man behind him.

“This is H2-22. H2, this is the woman I told you about.”

H2 looked wracked with nerves, she waved a delicate hand at him knowing he wouldn’t be able to see the smile on her face. If she’d bothered to smile in the first place. She was too pissed off, embarrassed and confused, to smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she spoke softly. _Please forget everything you just saw._

“Another person actually happy to meet me. This’ll take some getting used to.”

There was a pained look on his face and she knew he’d witnessed his fair share of hate speech. Her only real experience of a gen. three synth had been Glory. They just seemed like regular people; each with their own personality. Why was everyone so up in arms about them?

“Remember what I told you H2.”

Stockton moved towards the window and lit the lantern on the ledge. Once it was lit he turned around, said his goodbyes and left. Now it was just the two of them. She pretended like Deacon wasn’t even there, as far as she was concerned it was just her and the synth known as H2-22.

“Hey H2?”

“From what I’ve been told it’s probably safer if I don’t say anything. I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”

“I eat danger for breakfast.” Said in the right tone to relax him a little. “Tastes like chicken.”

She smiled when he laughed. Behind her she heard Deacon try to hide a laugh, she ignored it, and the electric current it sent through her spine. It didn’t quite hit her like Hancock’s did by she definitely felt it.

“I wanted to thank you. This world is…overwhelming.”

_Tell me about it._

“But people like you make me feel better about coming here.”

“That’s why we do all of this,” she moved her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Deacon stood next to her, “to give you a better life.”

“You really…You really have no idea how much I appreciate all of this.”

She did. His gratitude was written all over his face. There was no universal expression for gratitude; everyone showed it differently. It was nice to watch, it kept things interesting.

She had no idea how long they’d be waiting there so she kept both herself and H2-22 busy by making meaningless chitchat. She offered him a seat, to which he declined and she opted to stand with him, her back to Deacon the whole time. Because he wasn’t there.

“Has it been hard for you, being out in this world?”

“A little but Old Man Stockton has been really nice; a lot of people I’ve met have been really nice.”

She guessed that he’d either only ever interacted with agents of the Railroad or no one knew what he really was. Which was surprising with a name like H2-22.

“H2?” She turned her attention back to the man in front of her. “Is that really your name?”

“It’s the only thing I remember from…before.”

Just another number. She knew the feeling.

“You know, out here, you can be _anyone_ you want to be.”

She knew from experience. If anyone knew about starting their life over in a new world it was her. It had been her job to do so, now it was just her life.

“You look like a Jack to me…is it okay if I call you that?”

If the Railroad wanted synths to feel at home in the Commonwealth they really needed to start giving synths real names.

“Uh, s-s-sure.”

“You don’t need to be so nervous,” she stated calmly. “You’re safe. We’ve got you now. Okay?”

“Okay.” He offered her a smile, still nervous but there was a bit more confidence in it now.

They waited. And they waited. The sky was littered with stars and a full-moon lit up the ground around them. Rays of moonlight shone through the windows, bringing attention to the stained glass. She smiled to herself as different colours illuminated the room they stood in.

Whisper’s pistol was already up in the air before the man walked through the door.

“D-don’t shoot!” The man had his arms raised, his eyes fixated on the barrel of her gun.

Deacon silently put a hand on top of her gun and forced her to lower it.

“High-Rise! How are you, ya son-of-a-bitch?”

That was the most words to come out of Deacon’s mouth in over three hours. It was getting harder not to take his silence personally.

She witnessed them participate in the manliest handshake she’d ever seen. And then they hugged…which wasn’t manly at all. They were glad to see each other - glad the other was still alive.

“I see you got yourself a new partner.” She could feel the man’s eyes run over her body.

Everyone certainly liked looking at her, didn’t they? You’d think she’d be used to be it by now.

_He’d jizz his freakin’ pants if he saw my face._

“She’s feisty.” He added approvingly. “Whisper, right? I heard about you. Walked the Freedom Trail, cleared out the Switchboard. Glad you joined the team.”

She nodded and was, once again, grateful for her sunglasses and bandana because otherwise the three men would see the shocked look on her face. Evidently there were secrets, and no secrets in the Railroad.

_Seriously, again?_

She was once again part of an organisation that hid nothing and everything from each other at the same time and whilst she understood why, it didn’t stop her from being annoyed. 

_It’s going to take me forever to find out everything_.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you’re the ‘capable’ hands we’re leaving our package with?” Deacon joked.

She was quick to notice the sad look on Jack’s face and twice as quick to elbow Deacon in the rips. Though their height difference and positions forced the blow to land more against his rock hard stomach and she had to swallow the pained groan that was attempting to leave her because

_Holy crap that hurt._

“Stop calling him that. His name is Jack.” She added, turning her attention to High-Rise.

“Well…okay,” He shrugged it off like it was perfectly acceptable to him. _Sure, call yourself whatever you want_. “Jack, you ready to get this show on the road?”

He nodded so frantically she thought his head was going to pop off his shoulders.

“Listen, there were more raiders behind me. I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more help.”

She heard Jack whimper.

“That’s okay, I can clear out those raiders for you.’

_Because he’s certainly not going to help_. She silently added with a scowl Deacon couldn’t see.

She went off ahead, shooting anything and everything that suddenly came into view. She held up a hand and gestured the men forward every time she cleared an area. High-Rise helped out a little, she was sure that a few of the shots she heard were coming from Deacon’s rifle. She’d heard him shoot it so many times that she got used to the sound.

To most people a gunshot was literally just that; a gunshot. But not to her, just by the sound she could tell if it was a 10mm, a .44 or a .45 caliber bullet being shot, the time between shot and target told her what gun it was. Not a lot shocked her when it came to violence, it was everything else she had a problem with. And even though MacCready and Deacon used a similar a rifle, she could hear the little differences. MacCready was slower, his shots came out a little less confident; especially if he didn’t have the time to take care. But he was skilled nonetheless and self-taught! She couldn’t believe it when he told her that; it was amazing. Deacon was the same whether he was hiding or taking advantage of an unsuspecting enemy; his shots were faster, more accurate. They even sounded deadlier. He’d probably honed his skills whilst working for the Railroad, though he’d not been with them that long and considering his age - he probably came to the Railroad with prior skills anyway…

She stopped her train of thought and stared down at her feet. Why on earth was she suddenly comparing the two men?

When she was sure there were no more raiders hiding away she slowed down, allowing the three of them to catch up with her.

“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said she was good.” High-Rise placed a hand on her shoulder as she looked up at Deacon.

She was sure he could read the silent question on her face, even though he couldn’t actually see her face.

What had the three of them been discussing whilst she was wasting ammo?

Ticonderoga safe-house was better than she’d been expecting. It was in a high-rise building, they took the elevator all the way to the top floor. It certainly would be difficult for an enemy to sneak up on them.

The place looked modern, even by her standards, and for a second, she forgot that she’d been hurtled two centuries into the future.

“You’re always welcome here. You know, if HQ gets too boring.” High-Rise winked as he shook her hand.

“Seriously? You’ve never said that to me!” Complained Deacon in jest.

“What can I say, man? I don’t need another guy up here, this place is becoming one big sausage fest already.”

The two men laughed and she watched in fascination, again, as the two of them hugged goodbye.

_They must go pretty far back._

She’d never seen Deacon be this affectionate with anyone.

She waited for the doors of the elevator to close behind them before talking.

_Time to be real._ Because she really needed to put some professionalism into their partnership.

“If word gets back to Desdemona about how Stockton found us; it’s all on you.”

She wanted to know why he’d done that. And why he hadn’t said a word when he had her pinned against the wall…whether he was going to kiss her.

No. On second thought she didn’t want to know the answer to that. That was not putting a professional pin in their relationship, and that was her initial intention.

She watched him for some kind of reaction.

Nothing.

He just stood leant against the back of the elevator, his legs crossed at his shins, his arms crossed out in front of him and his head turned away from her.

_Everyone’s got their buttons_. Including him, and his skill set usually got him so far that no one ever questioned anything else about him. Deacon’s button is someone calling him old. Old implies he is helpless, too far gone to be of any use, that he is losing his touch. Deacon is none of those things.

He was just losing his mind that’s all.

_Because of her._

Why the hell had he pinned her against the wall? What on earth was his body thinking? Because it took a few seconds for his brain to register what he was doing, and by then she was sandwiched between the wall and his body, her legs pressed against his hips. What did he want to do to her in that moment?

And just how far would he have gone if Stockton hadn’t walked in at that exact moment? And how far would she have let it go?

He shook the thought of his head with a readjustment of his feet. He refused to look at her. Whisper was right, he definitely wasn’t okay and it only made him feel worse that she thought it was her fault. Because it wasn’t; not really. It was his issue. He needed to go back to HQ and sort his head out. And he needed to get away from her; and fast.

The only problem being that it was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d been waiting months for her to walk into HQ, now she was here, now she wanted to travel with him. He was being an idiot.

And the way Stockton found them…Jesus. If Dez found out, they were both definitely going to get an earful. Fraternisation, along with a lot of other things (like having fun), was a big no-no.

_Time to get a grip on yourself._

It was time to take a step back (possibly two) and return to the way they were before. Back to before hormones got involved.

The elevator doors binged open, Whisper took a step forward and Deacon’s head fell to the side as he looked at her. He’d noticed it a while ago. He himself could be considered tall; well over six foot if he put his back straight. But he sat at a more comfortable, exact, six feet. There’s tall and then there’s tall. He couldn’t control his height entirely; he’d be a little shorter if it were up to him. Just a bit.

But there was short and then there was Whisper.

_You literally just said you can’t control your height and now you’re about to bully her for the exact same thing?_ He was.

“How tall are you?”

She tensed at his question. She had a hand on either side of the door, her knuckles turned white as her grip tightened.

“Why?” She asked through slightly gritted teeth.

“You’re just…”

_I will rip your heart out of your chest and show it to you_

“…real small.” He laughed.

She snapped like a twig and surged backwards.

A breath left his mouth and the walls shook as she pushed him against the back of the elevator. She’d practically jumped on him, her knees were bent at his sides and a hand was gripping onto his shoulder to stop herself from falling off him.

This was becoming a habit.

With one quick movement of her knee, she put a stop to his struggling and he stilled when she held her switchblade to his throat.

“Spać z jednym okiem otwartym.” She threatened before peeling herself away from him.

He had no idea what she just said, if it was even real words, and he was too shocked to say anything.

He crapped himself a little when she put a knife to his throat but there was no denying how incredible aroused he got either. Whisper had pressed her entire body up against his, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that her chest had been pressed against him. The way her breath trickled over his neck as she breathed against him…

“So, it’s a sensitive issue?” He joked as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

She looked down at her hands as she curled her fingers and straightened them.

“So what’s this ‘Combat Zone’ I’ve heard so much about?”

Deacon almost stumbled over himself when she spoke.

“Y-you don’t wanna go there. Place is teeming with raiders.” He was strongly against the idea of going anywhere other than HQ.

“But what if you just want to fight?” She asked, her hands still making tiny flexed fists.

She looked at Deacon, his mouth furrowed before he shrugged, knowing full well they were going there whether he protested or not.

“Besides, if anyone can convince them not to kill us…” She pointed her thumb at her chest, “I’m your gal.”

_I'm going to show you exactly what a ‘real small’ person is capable of_. She gave a smile he couldn’t see.

_Grebanyy mudak_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More pinning I know…what are we doing to these crazy kids? The next chapter will be along shortly due to a promise I made.
> 
> I apologise to anyone who speaks Russian or polish - please don't report me as a racist lol.
> 
> I'm flying through my editing right now because I really want to hurry up and post something new. There isn't a lot I want to change about the next few chapters, just a few tweaks here and there.
> 
> Time kind of jumps around in this a lot, sorry if it's confusing.
> 
> Thanks for reading, thanks for being here, thanks for being you! =] xx


	22. Cut The Cord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper is taking Deacon to the Combat Zone to prove a point and meets a young Irish girl - in desperate need of help.
> 
> Deacon gets a real look at her for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badly googled german i’m sorry. But, if you’ve been paying attention, we all knew it had to turn up eventually.
> 
> There’s some feels at the end. Yay!
> 
> This chapter is, and will always be dedicated to [PostApocalypticPrincess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PostApocalypticPrincess). Girl you gave this story life!
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Cut The Cord - Shinedown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9itwt_opsvQ&index=23&list=RDotsMXq-1xQw))

_Suit the action to the word, the word to the action._

 

Deacon meant what he said, he wasn’t old and he wasn’t losing his touch. He was just worn out that was all. Because Whisper could run faster than any human should be allowed to run.

He even contemplated taking her to Easy City Downs and putting a bet on her.

She was running south, as far as her legs could carry her; desperate to show Deacon was she was capable of. Maybe Travis would talk about this instead of everything else. She ran even faster, pushing herself harder, when Park Street Station came into view. That made her think of MacCready, and she was desperate to ignore the guilt ridden twist of her stomach.

Valentine was probably still waiting for her…

Well, he was going to have to wait a little longer because, in that moment, getting to the Combat Zone was more important than anything.

For as long as she could remember people were always pointing out how short she was. Back straight, she stood at five-three, not what she’d initially call ‘tiny’. The kids back at camp came in all different shapes and sizes, she never taunted others over their flaws; she’d been trained better than that. But she couldn’t go five seconds without hearing someone mentioning her height, apparently not everyone listened to their training.

By the time Deacon caught up to her, she was ripping the armour off two raiders she’d clearly just killed.

“I know it’s gross.” She commented as she started putting a bloodstained shoulder guard on his body. “But we look too white-collar. They’ll shoot us on sight.”

_Did she really just kill two people for their clothes?_

They didn’t look white collar at all; just Deacon. She guessed that was his whole point, to look average to the point of forgettable.

_Yeah, but who can forget those abs…_

_Nora, I swear to-_

_What?_

She busied herself with the task at hand and after ten minutes of dressing Deacon, and herself, they were ready. 

Deacon was covered head to toe in raider gear, gnarly looking spikes poking out over every inch of him - if he fell over now he was going to get impaled. Whisper hadn’t dressed herself quite so barbaric, she switched over hers and Dogmeat’s bandanas so she looked like a Gunner, she lined her body with smaller leather armour and she swapped her sunglasses for a pair of goggles.

Was Whisper subconsciously trying to tell him something?

She bent down to pick up the baseball bat on the ground, she pressed the button and smiled at the electric current that surged through her before switching it off and passing it to Deacon.

“Stay here,” she commanded Dogmeat. She picked the small pink ball out of pocket and put it on the ground in front of him.

He whined happily and busied himself with his new favourite toy.

“Stop fidgeting.” She hissed at Deacon as they walked around the corner.

Deacon was not used to wearing armour, the ballistic weave in his t-shirt was heavy enough.

_This is worse than the Diamond City outfit._

It was unnatural for someone to wear this much crap on their body. He tugged at his collar, his legs moved awkwardly in their new casings. Whisper on the other hand, didn’t change the way she walked one little bit.

The woman made everything look as though it came perfectly natural to her.

Seeing her lie easily, the way she manipulated a situation to fall in her favour, how quickly people were to trust her…he was in awe.

Holy hell, you can read and hear everything about a person, even watch them from afar for a creepy amount of time but nothing is quite like witnessing it whilst stood right next to them. Despite everything that may or may not have happened since they met outside Boston Library he can do nothing but admire her.

They still hadn’t really talked, considering how fast the woman ran, and in his time he evaluated everything his subconscious had recorded over few past days. He’d been dreaming, of course he had. It was time to move on and focus on who Whisper really was, considering that had been his plan this entire time.

They were less than a hundred yards away from the entrance when two, heavily-armed, raiders ran up to them. Deacon was sure the jig was up before it even started.

“Hey!” Screamed a gruff voice.

Deacon instinctively went for his pistol when the body the voice belonged to raised his shotgun. Aiming it right at Whisper’s chest.

He saw her head move slightly in his direction and then shake softly.

She held up her hands to pacify the two men and took a step forward.

He swore he actually saw it, the moment she changed character. It started at her feet, the way she suddenly stood - her legs spread apart, her right foot slightly in front of her left as if she was ready to charge at both of them - then there was the movement of her hips. The ‘I fucking dare you’ that contrasted with the way she held up her hands in surrender. There was a slight movement of her head and he knew her new character had taken over, had assimilated.

“You always shoot the people who wanna fight?”

Deacon was glad he was used to this sort of thing, years of doing it in front of the mirror helped him just used to people suddenly becoming someone else. But he won’t lie that, for the endless time, he was grateful for his sunglasses because the voice she used was not her own, it was low and gravely; like she was a ghoul. Or smoked a hundred cigarettes a day.

She absorbed every part of her new persona in a matter of seconds.

“Think you got what it takes?”

Both men eyed her up and down; not slyly either. They had a point, looking at her, Whisper looked like she couldn’t hurt a dead bloatfly but Deacon knew better. Maybe that was what made her so deadly; because she didn’t look like she could kill you with a single flick of her wrist.

Why was that now a thing?

“Aint no doubt about it”

The two threatening men in front of them were lucky she just wanted to let off some steam; otherwise they’d be dead by now.

“Unless one of you wants to find out for yourself?”

“And who’s this?” _Take that as a no shall I?_ ”Your bodyguard?” The other man hadn’t said a word until now.

His sadistic laugh hit Deacon in a primal place he hadn’t thought about since his little ‘mishap’ with the rest of the UP Deathclaws. He resisted the urge to tear the man’s head off with his own hands.

He knew he could do it. He’d already done it once.

His actions that day had caused the Railroad to take note of him. And swearing himself to their cause had led him to now.

Here. In front of the Combat Zone. Face-to-face with two ugly, brutish raiders. Whisper a foot in front of him.

“Have you seen how small I am?” She gestured down herself.

_Right, so it’s okay when she mentions it?_

He still couldn’t believe they’d reached this point. He just wanted to get back at her for implying he was old. They’d pinned each other down twice now. It was becoming a bit of a habit.

A habit that needed to stop. Sure, it seemed to be what they did when the other pissed them off but Deacon had a lot of not-so-innocent thoughts about it after the event.

His dreams…he was about eighty percent sure they were dreams…were stuck in his head and now every time he looked at her his mind flashed back to the way her body writhed underneath his. The amazing look she had on her face when she begged him for more…

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to rip that fucking bandana off her face and pin her up against the nearest wall…in face he didn’t even need the wall, he’d just fuck her brains out standing in the middle of nowhere. She’d probably put a gun to his head the moment he tried to put a hand down her pants. Whisper was probably the kind of girl to wait until she came first before pulling the trigger.

_Still, it’d be one hell of a way to go._

“How else do you suppose I reach the top shelves?”

The two men chuckled before nodding in acceptance.

“We gotta take you to the boss.”

A sentence that rarely ended well in Deacon's experience.

“He’s the one who decides whether or not you’re good enough to fight.”

The two raiders turned around to walk towards the building, Whisper followed eagerly whilst Deacon trailed slightly behind.

Not because he was scared, or worried, but because he was a bit-player in this scene. It was like one of those live-action plays he’d read about, where the actors dragged the audience in. That’s what Whisper did, she dragged people into her, like she had her own gravitational pull.

Deacon - a servant of the Church. And if that Church was the Church of Whisper he was quite happy to promise his life to it.

Forget awe, he was obsessed.

“Yo, Tommy!” screamed the bigger of the two when they were all inside.

A gruff looking ghoul in a suit came waltzing into the foyer.

“What is it?” He answered his own question as soon as his eyes fell on Deacon. “New blood, eh?”

Whisper took one giant step to the side and placed herself in front of Deacon so Tommy’s eyes were on her instead.

“I’m the one you want.” She commented, a thumb pointed at her chest.

_You certainly are._

The smile on the ghoul’s face evaporated as he eyed the small woman in front of him.

“I see…you’re a little…”

_Whatever you do, don’t say small. For fuck sakes, don’t call her small._

Though it would be interesting to see what Whisper would do. She’d hesitated killing him but Deacon couldn’t say this man would be spared that fate too.

“Shorter than the guys that usually come through here.”

“So?”

Deacon could feel the anger radiating off her. Like a nuclear bomb getting ready to detonate.

“Look, you can waste time trying to find a tape measure or you can give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, ya certainly have the fighting spirit but just how good are ya?”

She could read the doubt on his face. The same look everyone gave her before she ‘proved’ herself.

“You won’t know until you put me in, will you?”

“Seriously boss?” Came a female voice.

She turned her head slightly to spot the woman walking towards them. She was probably young but the Commonwealth had been less than generous when it came to ageing people. There was a dark red, angry, scar across her left cheek, there was a chunk missing from her ear and one eye was glazed over.

“You’re gonna stick this munchkin in with Cait?” The woman scanned her up and down, a surly look on her face. “She won’t last two minutes.”

Munchkin? _Munchkin?_ That’s what this woman had just called her. To her face.

_If I win the first round I’m fighting you next bitch._

Deacon was impressed with how calm Whisper was. In fact he was a little annoyed, three out of the four of them had said something about her height and she had either made a joke or ignored them.

Where was this courtesy when he’d said it?

For now, he decided to put it down to whoever she was right at that moment. Apparently this particular character wasn’t too bothered about being called short, every bit of anger that was showing was coming from the real Whisper.

_That’s a bit of an oxymoron isn’t it? The ‘real Whisper’? You don’t know the first real thing about her._

That wasn’t true, he knew she came from a Vault.

_Well, you don’t know her real name._

_Yeah, not right now I don’t._ But there was a game of hangman he was real interested in finishing. _But give me time._

“It’s a hundred caps upfront if ya wanna go into the cage. Fifty if ya just wanna watch.”

“Seriously? A hundred caps? You make enough money on bets surely?” Her hand rose to rest on her hip and the other reached up to pull her goggles away from her face.

_If you’re dealt a shit hand, lay all your cards on the table._

Deacon was jealous he couldn’t see it. If the way everyone’s mouths fell open was any indication, it was hard not to be struck by her eyes.

He imagined it was like walking to the gates of heaven.

“I’ll tell you what, you let me fight for free and I’ll pay you double if I lose. It’ll be the easiest two-hundred caps you’ve ever made.”

“That’s gonna be a little hard to do doll. Here, in the Combat Zone, we fight to the death.”

The last three words sent a flash of warning signals to Deacon’s brain. To the death…he knew it had been a mistake to come here, they needed to leave.

Right now.

“In that case, my associate,” she gestured a hand back to Deacon, “will cover the cost.”

He’ll do what now?

No. No. This was not part of the plan. They needed to leave.

_Right fucking now._

He grabbed her by the arm but she shook him off with a wave of her hand.

_I’ll be fine._

Deacon had seen her shoot a gun, probably fight a little, but he was still underestimating what she could do. That reason being why they were here in the first place.

She watched Tommy ponder her suggestion and she saw the glint in his eyes when he accepted it.

“No guns, knives or spiked knuckles. This is unarmed combat.”

_So just a bunch of barbarians punching the crap out of each other? Greeeat._

Whisper was short, good with a gun…pretty incredible all round really, but Deacon wasn’t sure she could fight people like this. And not die.

She didn’t need Deacon to take his sunglasses off to see the doubt on his face. She smiled to herself; knowing he had no idea how this was actually going to end.

The noise of the arena hit her as soon as Tommy opened the door for her.

Memories of her childhood washed over her.

Being an expert in unarmed combat was imperative. In the unlikely event she found herself without a weapon, she needed to learn to defend herself. Training in unarmed combat against her fellow females was easy, even without practice she was stronger than most of them and after she won every sparring session, Officer Pendleton had proposed a different kind of challenge. Her bosses had a very liberal version of entertainment. They did it a lot, almost every week. Each Officer chose a member of their team to fight against a kid from another squadron. During her first time she quickly realised that all of the kids were older than her, a few years at least, definitely taller and she was the only girl.

Officer Pendleton always taught her differently from the rest of them, most officers told her to use force; to go in guns blazing but not Pendleton, he taught her to go slow, manipulate an impossible situation to fall in her favour. Destroy the enemy before even making them bleed.

She watched from crowd as pairs of kids stepped onto the mat and fought each other, each of them like brutes as they grunted and crashed their weight against each other. When the time came for her name to be called the whole room fell silent.

The whispering laughter and taunts started the moment she walked onto the mat. It didn’t help that her opponent was Garth, and he towered at least a whole foot above her. He made a point of cranking his neck down when he looked down at her. He oozed pride, puffing himself up like a peacock.

“You might wanna tap out now, whilst you still can,” said low so their officers didn’t overhear his slight.

She looked at her superior officer who simply folded his arms against his chest and nodded at her.

_Just remember what I taught you._

She nodded in response and looked back at the brick wall in front of her.

“You too.” She smiled sweetly and outstretched her hand for him to shake.

This was the day no one ever saw her height as a weakness ever again.

“Please tell you have an actual plan,” Deacon was quick to ask her when they were in a room alone.

Whisper didn’t respond, she was too busy looking up at the ceiling, her head following the large pipe above them.

“Give me a boost, will ya?” She asked and just like that, she was her again.

Nervously he obliged, he took a few steps towards her before bending down for her to place a foot in his cupped hands. It never ended well when they got close.

Deacon was stronger than he looked (all by design) and Whisper weighed almost nothing. He couldn’t help but think how much danger she was about to put herself in. That thought was quickly replaced by a less chivalrous one when their position caused her breasts to squish against his face.

“A little higher.”

“I’m trying. Jesus, you weigh a ton.” He smiled when she laughed.

“Liar.”

She stretched a bit more and placed her ear against the pipe. She could hear the water sloshing inside. Even after two-hundred years, the sprinkler system was still working. The world was full of surprises.

“You can let me down now.”

Deacon squeezed her thighs a little tighter and she could have sworn he was reluctant to do it. But the thought was gone as quickly as it had arrived when he dropped her to her feet.

“If things go bad, wait for my signal, pull the fire alarm and then turn that thing on,” Her head gestured to the bat in his hand.

“‘Pull the fire alarm’? What is this, high school?” He joked before registering her whole sentence. “Wait a second, what signal?”

She raised her arm in the air and made a peace sign with her fingers.

“That’s the signal.” She patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Don’t start doubting me now Deac.”

There was that nickname again. His nickname. Given by her.

If he was going to be a patron of the Church of Whisper he was probably going to have to offer her a sacrifice and, at this point, he’d probably drain the whole ocean if she asked him to.

“I got this; trust me.” She gave him a thumbs up, and probably winked.

And against his better judgement; he did.

He responded with a nod, a voice somewhere in the back of the head telling him something was going to go wrong. Because that was all the voices every did, when they weren’t taunting him.

They were in a cage. An actual cage. Like two wild animals.

She eyed the woman in front of her.

_Cait._

She was wearing nothing to protect herself, no armour; just a burgundy corset and green trousers. To level the playing field she started to remove her own armour until she was stood in her jumpsuit.

She caught the look on Deacon’s face. The silent ‘ _what the fuck are you doing?_ ’ before she turned around and peeled the bandana and goggles off her face. It wasn’t about proving a point, it wasn’t about the advantage she had; this was about Cait.

“It’s gonna be a real shame to ruin such a pretty face.” Cait had a thick Irish accent, her breath reeked of alcohol.

A random mission to the UK had led her to meet a lot of Irish people; they certainly knew how to fight - even drunk out of their faces. But she didn’t care, there was no such thing as a clean fight anymore. And an unarmed fight was always less than clean anyway.

She didn’t respond to Cait’s taunt, she stayed silent as she studied her even more.

Unkempt auburn hair fell just above her shoulder and there was a dusting of freckles over Cait’s face. Her eyes fell to the track marks on Cait’s arms.

_Chem-addict._

And given her ‘job’ she knew the woman’s chem of choice was Psycho.

Welcome to the one chem she never used herself. She was a stone cold killer at the best of times, she really didn’t need something like Psycho pushing her further over the edge.

Cait was frail, more frail than she looked at first glance.

_Brittle bones_.

“We’re not really fighting to the death, are we?” She asked when they were face to face.

_Because I could kill you._

“That’s the rule, loser’s corpse gets dragged outta here.”

She hit the bottom of her fists on top of Cait’s, then moved to meet the bottom of her fists with the top of hers.

“Why, you’re not scared are ya?” Cait smashed their fists together one more time.

“No.” She turned around to go to her side of the cage. “I just really don’t want to kill you.”

Their training officers never let them kill each other, just let them fight until they were close to that line. But, once or twice, she had to fight without a weapon and she hadn’t lost yet. She was living proof she always won. Evidently, not even the apocalypse could kill her.

Though, in hindsight, it probably should have whilst it had the chance.

Before the bell even rung, before they’d even taken a step back towards each other, she’d reached a decision. Cait was damaged; she needed help. Not this.

Neither of them were going to die.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to hold back because, judging by the way Cait was smirking, she wasn’t going to go easy on her either.

They circled around the ring, fists raised, waiting for the other to make the first move.

The crowd were already shouting, fists pounding against tables.

Pendleton’s voice entered her head.

_You’re small, they won’t think much of you. Use it._

Being short had its advantages. She was closer to the ground, she could move faster; she could see the perfect moment before the opportunity even presented itself.

_Don’t drop your gaze even for a second._

She saw Cait’s leg twitch and she was already diving out the way before she could land the first punch.

_Duck and weave._

She glided to Cait’s left side, bent her elbow and smashed it down between her shoulder blades before the Irish woman had a chance to recover.

Cait stumbled with a groan but remained on her feet.

_Anticipate their actions._

She watched from behind as Cait’s right shoulder blade spasmed and her own right arm was in front of her face before Cait had swung around in another attempt to punch her.

She heard the slight snap in Cait’s wrist as her right fist hit against her raised arm.

With her left hand she grabbed the wrist of her arm before Cait had a chance to remove it, bent down to push her body against hers and, using her right arm for support, she flipped Cait over her and the ground underneath her feet vibrated as Cait’s back slammed against it.

Given how fragile Cait was, she was lucky she hadn’t just broken every bone in her body.

There was a second of silence where she thought she’d actually killed Cait and she hid her relief when the woman finally groaned.

_You knock an opponent down and they’re gonna come looking for you._

Cait’s hands were by her head and she pushed herself off the ground, her legs kicked through the air and whipped her around the face.

She stumbled backwards, careful not to lose her footing and she was too pumped full of adrenaline, too engrossed in the fight, to feel her own pain but she could feel the blood flooding from her nose.

The crowd were really losing it now, their shouts were growing louder with each passing moment; somewhere in the sea of raiders was Deacon. Probably stood in disbelief, his mouth open in shock.

She surged forward and grabbed at the straps of Cait’s corset, she pulled the woman closer to her and quickly smashed her forehead against Cait’s nose.

_Eye for an eye._

Cait wasn’t as graceful in her recovery, the woman looked exhausted already. She herself had barely broken out in a sweat.

She was too high to feel the pain in her forehead.

Before Cait had a chance to make her next move, she hooked her finger inside her mouth; being wary of her teeth because she wouldn’t put it past her to try and bite her finger off, and pulled it hard. She could hear Cait squirming and felt her attempts to capture her finger between her teeth.

She released it quickly and pushed her away slightly. Cait stumbled again and she knew it was almost over.

_When you have the advantage, go for the weak spot._

She reached forward, wrapping her hands around the back of Cait’s head and her knee lifted into the air as she dragged Cait’s face towards her. She held a tight grip on her head as her knee hit Cait’s stomach and her body lifted off the ground a couple of inches.

She tugged her even closer, landed a harder blow into her stomach and pushed Cait off her. She jumped on her before she had a chance to regain her footing.

They fell to the ground with a large crash. She knelt painfully hard against Cait’s chest, a knee buried in her sternum, and she placed the knuckles of her index fingers into Cait’s voice box.

Cait struggled underneath, her legs and arms were kicking out pointlessly. From this position Cait couldn’t reach her. She pushed a little harder and the crowd began to chant.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

She gave one last hard push into Cait’s throat before taking her hands away and getting to her feet.

Cait looked up at her in disbelief when she outstretched a hand but took it anyway, and she helped her stand on her feet.

“You coulda won, you coulda killed me.”

“Yeah I could have; but I’m not.” She smiled.

The whole room fell silent before erupting into anger.

“What the fuck?”

“You’re supposed to fucking kill the bitch!”

“This is a set-up!”

“Tommy double-crossed us!”

The ghoul suddenly came running into the cage, his arms in the air in an attempt to calm the oncoming storm.

“No, no, no folks. it’s nothin’ like that. We’ll go again, and this time,” he turned to face her with a scowl, “someone _will_ die.”

“No they won’t.” She stated pointedly. Both Tommy and Cait looked at her in shock.

She was quick to drag Cait closer to the cage door.

“In fact, you can all burn in hell. Peace!” She held up hand high in the air, her middle and index finger pointed out whilst the rest were curled inwards.

Less than a second later a loud ringing filled the room and she was pulling Cait to the closest countertop before the sprinkler system came to life.

“Get up there.” She commanded and, with her help, a very confused Cait crawled up to the counter. “Drop it!” She screamed in Deacon’s general direction before climbing up onto the counter herself.

Within seconds the water pooling on the floor electrified and the room filled with pained screams.

She watched as dozens of raiders ran for the exit. Some, in their desperate attempt to get off the floor, started climbing up the outside of the cage.

_That’s a mistake._

In the blink of an eye, sparks began to appear over the metal cage and the bodies of the people climbing up it went flying in all directions.

She took hold of Cait’s shaking hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

_You’re going to be okay_.

There was too much commotion going on to say it out loud.

She closed her eyes and, together, they waited for the screaming to stop.

An entire lifetime past before the room fell silent and the sprinklers ran out of water. She felt Cait move next to her and released her grip on her hand. She didn’t open her eyes until she felt a stronger hand on her shoulder. 

It felt so familiar and safe, just like when Hancock picked her up off the streets of Goodneighbor and she could barely open her eyes to look at the person in front of her. She let her body take over and found herself reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. She fell into him as his arms snaked around her back and helped lift her off the counter. They stayed tangled up in each other even after her feet hit the ground.

His chest was moving heavily up and down against her face and she could feel his heart beating. Ridiculously hard. Hers was too.

They both almost died and they were both feeling the rush that came from surviving the impossible.

When her breathing had steadied she peeled herself away to look at him. Their eyes met at the same time and she can’t help but smile up at the man in front of her.

_Holy shit._

Move over Diamond City, there’s a new great green jewel of the Commonwealth and it’s Whisper’s eyes.

Deacon never thought there was such a thing as perfect but here it was, the evidence stood right in front of him.

The bright, fluorescent - like the laser point on a sniper rifle - green of her eyes reel him in and with one look he was lost. Lost and found all at the same time. Time stood still, the world around him disappeared and he was ready to fall at her feet and promise his life to her. 

The black lines on her lids just accentuated it. It was like a gunshot to the heart. And, Jesus Christ, her mouth was more incredible than Deacon had imagined, big, but not too big, full lips formed into a pout that was painted blushed pink. Whisper spent most of the time walking around with her face covered up but still went to the effort to put make-up on.

_Ready at a moment’s notice._

He was proud of her, for so many things, even the things he couldn’t talk about.

Whoever said women beating the crap out of each other wasn’t sexy had clearly never seen Whisper fight. Even Deacon wasn’t sure he should have found it as cock-hardening as he did. 

It only helped confirm what he already knew.She wasn’t just good, she’d been amazing. The way she moved, the way she kicked fucking ass. He was surprised Cait managed to touch her, she moved fast; really fast.

Being small had it’s advantages, that’s what she was telling him.

She looked up at him, her eyes glistened and her mouth hung open in a lazy smile. He eyed the dried blood over her face, the angry red lump that was already forming on her forehead, and, without asking permission, he cupped one hand under her chin whilst the other searched in his pocket for a tissue.

Lost in their own little world, oblivious to their surroundings, he wiped the blood off her face and she let him. His thumb brushed against the cut on her bottom lip and he saw her eyelids flutter just a bit before retreating.

His first commandment in the gospel of Whisper: Thou shall never leave her side.

And as long as she wanted him to be there, he was going to stay.

She was young, straight out a Vault (how long she’d been down there was still a mystery), she needed protecting. Though she was deadly…and cute. How was that even possible?

“Do you mind telling me what the hell that was? We had a deal!”

Tommy went to grab at her arm but Deacon pushed him away, more forcefully than she’d expect from someone so passive, and the ghoul flew half-way across the room.

It was a move that shocked her right to her core. Like the alpha protecting his pack…

_He’s protecting me_. She smiled wider, too high to stop it and panic instead.

“Seriously, I’m getting too old for this shit. Here,” he flung a wad of paper down at her feet, “take her contract, I’ve had enough of her crap.”

Whisper bent down and picked up the contract. She flicked through it pointlessly before reaching into her pocket with one hand and taking out the lighter.

Ever since the ‘cupboard incident’ she made sure she always had at least one on her.

She ignited the lighter and watched as the flames crawled up the paper and she let go of it before the fire reached her fingers.

The three of them walked out of the arena, trying not to pay attention to the dozens of charred corpses around them. She was stood a little closer to Deacon than she normally did and he could tell himself it was because the pathway was narrow, but she remained close to him even when they were outside.

She placed two fingers under her tongue and whistled loudly into the distance. Moments later a very happy Dogmeat came bounding round the corner, the pink ball in-between his teeth.

“Thank you.” She smiled as she held out a hand for him to drop the ball in.

She placed it back in her pocket and bent down to unwrap the bandana from around his neck. He looked up at her expectantly when she placed the red bandana around her face.

“I’m sorry boy, I’ll get you a new one I promise.”

She stood back up, placing her hat on her head, and turned to Cait.

“Are you okay?” She asked as she begun tucking her hair underneath her hat.

“I’m fine. Why did you do that?”

“Did you want me to kill you?” She questioned in half-surprise that Cait was even asking.

“Well no, but you were supposed to.”

“I rarely do the things I’m supposed to.” She winked before placing her sunglasses back over her eyes.

“What now?”

She looked back at Deacon before returning her gaze to Cait.

“We need to go to work but I know of a place you can stay.”

She knelt back down to talk to Dogmeat.

“Hey boy, this is Cait. Take her home for me, will you?” The dog at her feet whined. “I’ll be fine. Cait needs you now, and if she tries to kill you, or sell you, beißen ihr Gesicht ab.”

That was it, wasn’t it? That was the phrase she was talking about. The command for him to bite someone’s face off.

_Okay, so maybe she wasn’t bullshitting me this whole time_ , and Deacon was grateful that saving Whisper had caused the dog to like him.

“So we’re heading back to HQ?” Asked Deacon when it was just the two of them.

“I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

He couldn’t believe she was so willing to travel without the dog at her heels. The mutt had been by her side since her first day. Dog’s weren’t allowed in the library she’d joked, but leaving him at HQ was different to letting him travel across the Commonwealth with a woman they’d only just met.

A woman Whisper had just successfully kicked the crap out of.

Deacon tried not to get his hopes up, he tried not to think that she’d done it intentionally; that she didn’t want to be alone with him. But he was too far gone to think anything else.

Whisper and Deacon, alone together - the whole of the Commonwealth laid out before them.

And there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't taken a single thing out, just added to it, because why mess with this beauty?


	23. Take Me To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon's lost. Whisper is too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite all the crap I gave this chapter at the beginning, I kind of love it now so not a lot has changed, like the last chapter I've just added to it really.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [ Take Me To Church - Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYSVMgRr6pw))

_Desire of having is the sin of covetousness_

 

Deacon gets it now, he understands. It’s not in the way she holds herself or in the way she talks. It’s not in the way she carries herself depending on the situation, the way she can kick your ass whether she’s using a weapon or not, nor is it the voice that just invited you in. Eyes and a smile that are like a gunshot to the heart. 

It’s all those things, melded together to make a perfect human being and not for the first time since travelling with her does he reach the conclusion that she’s possibly too perfect to be real.

_She’s a goddamn synth._

He’s never been one to brag but over his years he’s seen a lot of women’s faces, the look of gratitude when he helped them, the heat of arousal in their eyes when he flirted with them, but they were just nameless faces; a means to an end. All the women in the Commonwealth ran together in the end, then Whisper came along.

He was riding the peak of his high when he looked at her for the first time and if he thought it was impressive then, it was even more impressive now he’d had time to reflect on it. He was right, a tv screen and five hundred yards weren’t shit in comparison to seeing it up close.

That smile. The smile she’d probably used on countless men before him, perfect runs of pure white teeth that he only ever saw in those pre-war spank mags that were laying around the Old State House (courtesy of Hancock). Even trickling with blood, purple from bruises, her lips practically begged to be touched. Just the right shade of pink, not too excessive, just enough to bring attention to them. A smile like that could break a man, or at least persuade an entire army to blow itself up.

_Remind me to introduce her to the Brotherhood of Steel._

And, holy crap, her eyes? Like a laser point Deacon felt penetrate his soul the moment she looked at him and he was a victim of hers already because let’s face it, Deacon’s been in this partnership five months longer than her.

That Vault had kept her _very_ well preserved, but it seemed to magnify everything already perfect about her. Her hair, though she’d never confirmed it (hell she had yet to admit she came from a Vault) was probably courtesy of whatever happened down there. He still remembered what it looked like the first time, pitch black hair that fell down her back and stopped at her waist, right above that perfect ass that he hadn’t really paid attention to. Until he was sneaking behind her, and it was in his face. She was right, there was still some black strands buried in there, but there were even less when they were in the Combat Zone.

She’d just been in a pretty epic fight, she glowed like her hair from the film of sweat that had appeared over her and the lump on her head, the one she got when she head butted Cait’s face (Deacon still didn’t know why he found that so sexy), was growing so rapidly that he knew a full-blown bruise would form by the time they got back to HQ.

He shouldn’t have done it, he should have been standing against the wall near the fire alarm (or stood in the paranoid spot as Whisper would call it) but he literally could not stop himself. His feet were not listening to him at all. But when she started to take off her gear, to be level with Cait, he knew he might never get another chance to see it again, and he was closer this time. She moved fluidly, her feet barely touched the floor before she was off again, almost like she was flying and she danced circles around Cait and he was surprised Cait got in a shot at all (though a part of him suspected that Whisper had let her do it).

Whisper was the perfect package.

He’s literally never seen a woman like her before. There was just something so _different_ about her, something he just didn’t see in the women of the Commonwealth, or the Capital Wasteland or anywhere else in the world he was willing to wager. 

When they got to HQ they separated, Whisper to go debrief Carrington, he to go tell Des the good news.

“I’m back!” He bellowed joyfully.

“Deacon.” Said the boss in her usual ‘I’m-happy-to-see-you-haven’t-got-yourself-killed-now-do-some-work’ way.

Deacon’s never been sure of who he was, one minute a gang member, then a farmer just trying to live a normal life; next minute he’s a secret agent preparing to take down the biggest problem in the Commonwealth. And he’s not even sure he’s doing that either. The Institute, for being the Railroad’s biggest enemy, were hardly mentioned and when they were it was only in relation to the synths they were still rescuing. There seemed to be more every day, another lost soul waiting to be saved; _Patriot must be working overtime_.

“Jesus, you look like shit.”

“Thanks Glory, nice to see you too.”

Her and Deacon had taken their time walking back to HQ, not saying a word to each other, and by the time she reached the door her adrenaline rush had all but evaporated and she ached everywhere.

She reported their success to Carrington, who grumbled something that almost sounded like gratitude and then he proceeded to lecture her about the injuries on her face. She ignored the tut that escaped his mouth when she walked away mid-lecture. She was too exhausted to listen.

She collapsed down on her mattress with an agonised groan, her legs half spread out over the floor and, without really caring at this point, she took the bandana and sunglasses off her face. Her black wig was back on her head before she walked through the door, her actual hair safely tucked underneath the bald cap. She demanded Deacon wait five minutes before entering. That was not an image she wanted. Wearing a bald cap in front of Deacon of all people. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the thought.

“Holy crap girl!” Exclaimed Glory.

She wasn’t sure if the synth was referring to her face or the general state of her.

“What walked over your face?”

She laughed light-heartedly before explaining what had occurred over the past twenty-four hours.

“All that just because he called you small?”

She left out the part where they’d pinned themselves against each other. Again. The last thing Glory needed to hear was that. Fraternisation, almost other things, was a big no-no…Not that she was even thinking of Deacon like that.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Pretty much.”

“Remind me never to piss you off.” She smiled.

She lifted her legs with a wince, pried her boots off and threw them on the ground at the end of her mattress.

“You know, sometimes I feel like I’m too old to live like this anymore.”

She was too lost in thought to pay attention to Glory’s response.

Her actions at the Combat Zone were more prewar than she’d been in a while. It hurt but she forgot how much fun it was. To show people what she could do with her body as well as her gun. No one in the Minutemen ever mentioned it, probably due to her status as General, and Preston didn’t tower over her as much as Deacon did. Sturges was always bent over something, fixing it. And Jun was too busy getting screamed at for absolutely nothing by Marcy. Daisy was small, Fahrenheit was almost always sat down — so was Mama Murphy. Glory was of perfectly average height (probably by design) but she wasn’t that much taller. Standing next to Deacon made her feel like a child.

She’d been at the peak of her high when Deacon saw her face, a battered and bruised version, but her face nonetheless. Now she had time to focus, she felt that usual sense of unease — once again other man had seen her face before she had decided to show it. Why did she suddenly feel like she was cheating on MacCready? She showed it willing to the people at the Combat Zone; but that was part of the play. She was desperate to fight and showing her face gave men reason to give her what she wanted — whilst it was a curse for most of her life, her face did come in handy from time to time.

She was almost confused when she shrugged it off.

_It’s not like I can take it back now. What’s done is done, as the old bard would say._

And she hadn’t done it for him, she’d done it for Cait.

But she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it, mainly due to the fact she could still feel the remanence of his hand on her face. She willingly wrapped her arms around what could have been a total stranger, letting the safe feeling of him take over, and even after she realised it was Deacon, why did she smile? Thankfully, she could put that down to adrenaline.

She remembered the way he gently wiped the blood off her face and resisted the urge to bite her lip every time she thought about it. And she was trying really hard not to think about it but the memory of his thumb on her lip twisted her right down to her core; even more than when he flung Tommy through the air.

She wasn’t used to it. Sure, MacCready had her back plenty of times but with Deacon…she didn’t know. It was just _different_ ; what sort of different she wasn’t sure yet. He was protecting her, worried about her safety — even after everything he’d just witnessed.

“Oi Deacon!”

Glory’s loud tone brought her back to reality.

“You yelled?”

The smile he shot at them sent another sting down her spine. She tried to forget about the way his voice ran through her, how his laugh illuminated every nerve in her body.

He’d taken off his armour and she let him keep it in her trunk, knowing he was never going to wear it again. Armour didn’t suit him anyway, he looked fine in a t-shirt and jeans.

Just… _fine_.

She cursed her lip for trying to quiver, that’s not who Deacon was to her and she refused to let pure (perfectly natural) human urges to get in her way. Again.

“Call my girl Whisper short again,” Glory put an arm around her neck and dragged her into a side hug.  “And I’ll kick ya ass for her. Got it?”

“You told her? _Unbelievable_.” His mouth fell open and he brought the back of his hand dramatically to his forehead in feigned shock. “Did she also tell you that she called me old?”

So that’s why he… _did what he did_ …back at Cambridge church. It clicked in a moment of realisation. She insulted him and he lost his temper, just like she had with him at the bottom of Ticonderoga. But she’d been a bit more verbal than Deacon.

It was just like her relationship with MacCready, nothing came for free. _For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction._

_If we’re going to play this game._

“He had practically ignored me for two days,” she began to defend, peeling herself away from Glory. “And he almost got himself killed, oh I don’t know, about three dozen times.”

She dramatically moved her head to look in his direction. _And me_.

Glory sighed and got to her feet.

“You two are as bad as each other,” she shook her head and walked back into the war room, silently regretting putting them together in the first place. Des had a hard enough time controlling Deacon as it was, add another copy of him and well, the whole Railroad was about to become a giant playhouse. 

She slipped her sunglasses back over her face and shot a weak smile at Deacon who was still standing in the archway.

So they hadn’t reached that stage quite yet; the one where she was comfortable showing her whole face to him all the time. Her shell wasn’t quite broken but it was definitely cracked. It would take time, but it was okay, Deacon could wait.

He would wait a lifetime if he had to.

He cleared his throat and walked towards her.

“You know I was thinking, since we’re a team.”

_We’d better be a team now. After all the crap we’ve been putting each other through._

“Do you think we should use a code name? Red Orchard? Or...Code Violet? Or...the Death Bunnies? That'll definitely confuse people.”

“Between the two of us I think people are pretty confused already,” she chuckled. She put all her energy into not biting her lip and grinning like a child.

A team name…She never had one of those before.

_That’s because you’ve not been part of a team before._

That wasn’t true, MacCready and her were a team, and they had been long before she ran off to join the Railroad, but they’d never given themselves a name. Why on earth hadn’t they named themselves? They were a pretty awesome team too.

“Sure, what the hell, go team Death Bunnies.” She raised a fist in the air and smiled wide and Deacon saw the run of perfectly straight white teeth that lined her mouth.

She flinched involuntarily when Deacon moved to sit down next to her. It was probably just a reflex, some habits were hard to break, Deacon knew that better than anyone.

It had been three hours since they walked out of the Combat Zone, three hours was an adequate amount of time to wait before asking her…right? On the one hand, Deacon was meant to be watching from the sidelines, he was getting too involved. On the other, who gives a shit? Whisper looked exhausted and, like him, her adrenaline rush had probably gone now so she was feeling every ache and pain she’d so far been able to ignore.

She was probably also coming to terms with the fact she just showed him her face, and Deacon could only imagine how unsettling that was for her. He knew how he’d feel if their positions were reversed.

“How ya feeling?” The sincerity in his voice was obvious - Deacon was still worried about her.

_That’s actually quite sweet of him._

“Like I just went three rounds with an Irish girl.” She laughed.

There was a moment’s silence before she spoke again. Everyone was always so concerned with her safety, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to that. Hancock and Daisy doted on her like she was their own flesh and blood. MacCready was…well, he was MacCready wasn’t he? And now Deacon, and he’d just seen a side of her she hadn’t shown to anyone yet, of course MacCready had seen a different side of her, one of the many she hated, but no one knew what she capable of without a gun in her hand. Until Deacon, but she didn’t mind, given his nature she knew he wouldn’t tell a soul. Liars are good like that, the best people to tell secrets to because they’d never say a word.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

_Everything_ she wanted to say because she felt as though she owed him more than she was actually aware of.

“Oh I don’t know, vouching for me in the first place, helping me get into Vault 81.”

Deacon in fact did nothing to get them into Vault 81 other than stand there but he knew what she was implying.

“Indulging me in everything,” she continued, “letting me fight even though you thought I was going to get myself killed.” Deacon’s bottom lip dropped slightly. “Admit it.”

“I’m just sorry I doubted you.”

A real, _actual_ , conversation. Probably their first; definitely not their last.

Talking to Deacon seem to come easy to her, even if they were speaking bullshit most of the time. He really was the fantastic liar everyone said he was. It wasn’t just in the way he talked either, now she’d seen what he’d been hiding underneath his t-shirt. Everything about him was perfectly designed to adapt to a situation at the blink of an eye.

_Appear strong when you are weak and weak when you are strong._

She wouldn’t say she trusted Deacon, sure she knew he wasn’t going to shoot her in the back or stab her in her sleep or anything like that, but if he really was like her, then even Deacon knew he wasn’t the sort of person to be trusted.

_Never trust a liar._

She felt the need to, she wouldn’t say ‘impress him,' but similar. Prove herself. She had to do that throughout her entire childhood, she really didn’t want to spend her entire adult life doing the same thing.

“I’m used to it. Not from you!”

In reflex, she put her hand on his chest and her fingers crumpled the fabric when she felt something hard underneath.

“What the hell is that?” She asked, leaning further towards him to investigate.

“Ballistic weave.”

“Can I…?”

He nodded, forever grateful for his sunglasses because his eyes were screaming, before reaching down and turning up the hem of his t-shirt.

Her bottom lip quivered in her effort to stop her biting it when she saw the muscles on his abdomen and she desperately concentrated on the metal linings of his t-shirt.

She gripped the material and pulled it slightly towards her.

“Cool,” she ran her thumb along the weave. “Wanna see mine?”

Deacon’s world unravelled for a moment at her words. What was she implying exactly?

He sat and stared, dumbstruck, as Whisper reached up her hands. One to tuck her hair out of the way, the second to pull at her zip.

Deacon was trying to remain perfectly calm, his dick however was screaming at her to run the zip all the way down to its end.

_Pull yourself together._

She didn’t, she pulled the zip down just before it showed off the valley of her breasts and folded over one side to show him the lining.

Despite a voice in his head telling him not to, he leant forward to examine it closer. The moment his face was inches from her neck he realised why the voice was warning him.

He wanted to wrap his free hand around her neck, not tightly, just enough to pull her into him so he could kiss and bite the delicious flesh of her. Bite her so hard she bled, and marked hers as his.

_You’re fucking losing it._

He snapped out of it and concentrated on the material in his hands, not the naked body underneath it. The hitch in her breath was not lost on his when his finger brushed against her chest. Not in a grabby, rapey kind of way, just enough for him to touch her and make it look like an accident.

“Is this ballistic weave?” he asked because it looked nothing like of it.

“Not quite,” she replied, cranking her neck up further to give him a better view of, well, everything really. 

Her hands brushed over his when she went to pry the two sides of her jumpsuit apart even further. Not far enough to be flashing anything at him, but certainly far enough to cause an eyebrow to raise if someone were to walk in and see them.

“Comes with extras.” Without looking, because she dare not look at his face, she took hold of his hand and helped run his finger along the fabric. “Self-repairing material, I mean I think if you ripped the thing to shreds it wouldn’t be able to fix itself but a cut or two and it works just fine.”

She was trying to joke because she refused to even acknowledge to herself that Deacon’s hands on her felt nicer than they should. And why did his touch feel so familiar?

“Does it stick you with a stimpak too?” He asked, his hand still in hers and his eyes straight ahead of him. Actually, considering her chest was in front of him, closing them seemed to be the safer option.

“No,” she laughed. “Goes invisible though, if I stand still long enough.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Lost sight of you a few times,”

_Oh my god._ Deacon loved moments like this, when he could tell the truth and technically lie at the same time. Whisper had no idea what moment he was talking about.

The question of ‘when?’ popped into her head and the moment was officially ruined. She took his hand off her and quickly zipped her jumpsuit back up, internally berating herself for acting like a bloody teenager.

She repositioned herself with her legs crossed, her body pointed towards him. She leaned forward slightly, as if she was actually happy he was sat there. Deacon wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Almost automatically deciding that leaning forward was a bad idea, she moved to rest back on her hands and her head fell to one side.

“Do you shave your head or are you just bald?”

“Well, that’s certainly a conversation changer, Whisp.”

The second she heard it; she loved it. A nickname wrapped in a codename, just like she’d given him.

“I’ve been wondering for a while now.”

She had, but she was mainly asking because she wanted something truthful from him — even if it was small. It was a start.

“I’ve shaved my head since I was a teenager, I guess my hair just ended up thinking ‘well I’ll just fuck off that shall I.'”

“I suppose it’s easier to put a wig on, if you’re into that sort of thing obviously.”

From her known recollections of Deacon he’d either been bald or wearing a hat. Were there even wigs for men available in the Commonwealth anymore? Maybe she’d put in a request to Codsworth, but that would require going to Diamond City and she’d been successfully avoiding it for a while now. Too many people there required her attention but she knew that it was only a matter of time before she had to; it was like Desdemona didn’t want to find the Institute.

“Exactly! I mean,” he lowered his voice. “How do you do it? Tuck your real hair underneath and still make it look natural?”

That almost sounded like a compliment. She was sure of it.

“Years and years of practice.”

_Actually it’s because I wear a bald cap but I am not discussing that with you._

“You know, I think Carrington almost said thank you when I debriefed him.” She smiled.

She certainly knows how to change a conversation, doesn’t she?

“Seriously? Did you take a picture?” Deacon was happy to indulge her.

Whisper had to feel comfortable around him — sure he’d seen some things from her before, but it was stuff that other people knew about and Deacon wanted to know something else no one else did.

“With what?” She gestured around her. They both laughed.

Deacon ran a hand over his bald head, moaned and then looked at her.

“You must be exhausted, you should sleep.”

“I’m fine actually.”

The exhaustion she felt only an hour ago was gone now. She was quite happy sitting there talking with him.

“You know what fine stands for right?”

She had to look at him in surprise, her jaw dropping to show the entire world. Had he known this entire time? The second she started reciting it, she got her answer.

“Freaked out,”

“Insecure, neurotic and emotional.”

She openly chuckled, not even sure why she was surprised.

“Unless you’re tired?” She was quick to ask. “I know I’ve put you through a lot over the past few days. I forget normal people like to get their full eight-hours.”

She knew Deacon didn’t sleep much. He was always the last one to go to sleep and the first one to wake. She knew this because she was always the second. But she forgot that Deacon had, by now, come down from his own rush. She realised when they were hugging, the way his heart beat through his chest — it wasn’t from fear — and there was a change in his breathing, a small hitch every now and then. She knew what to look for, it was hard to control that sort of rush — she knew it well.

“Do I look like I get that much sleep?” He gestured to his face.

“Well, they say you don’t need as much sleep when you’re older.” She teased.

“Okay short-ass, enough with the old jokes, okay?” He slapped a hand down on her leg.

Probably lingering slightly longer than necessary but, for some reason, she didn’t mind.

“Oh come on Deac,” she lightly punched him in his shoulder, “you’re not that old.”

He winced, and knowing she hadn’t hit him that hard, she quickly pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Holy crap.”

It wasn’t the ridiculously huge muscles she was commenting on. No, she dare not mention those, it was the large purplish-black bruise on top of those muscles that caught her eye.

“Who’s been using you as a punchbag?”

“Glory.” He pulled the sleeve of his t-shirt back down. “Apparently you both go for the same spot.”

“Sit on the other side of me and maybe I can give you one to match. You know, symmetry and all that.”

She was surprised when he actually crawled behind her and set himself on the mattress to her left

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you like pain.” She laughed and hit his other arm gently.

“Yours don’t hurt as much as Glory’s, the woman is mostly metal after all.”

He bent his knees to line with his chest and lazily rested his arms over them, he was trying to look casual. He was pretty sure he was pulling it off.

“Maybe you should ask Cait before you reach that conclusion?” She smiled.

She was definitely more comfortable around him, he’d never seen her without it since she put it on. And that was months ago. Now here she was, quite happy to reveal the lines of shockingly white teeth to him.

_Might be gettin’ somewhere_.

“Speaking of which, how do you know she’s to be trusted?”

“I don’t.”

She didn’t know anything about Cait, except the only thing that mattered — she needed help.

“But hell, did you look at her? I mean, _really_ look at her? She’s in serious trouble, she’s an addict and trying to make a living in that place, surrounded by people that don’t care about her, she’d be dead before she saw her next birthday. So Dogmeat is taking her to a place where people will actually care about her. She’ll hate it at first, she won’t trust that they have good intentions but she’ll soon realise they just want to help; hopefully.”

Like her, Cait’s stubborn; young at heart. Probably living like a rebellious teenager — getting back at her parents for something. She’d figure it out eventually, Cait just had to break down some of her own walls first.

_RJ will help her._

“So you just got a quick read on her then?”

“It’s easier to see people for who they really are when they don’t hide their face.”

A sly dig at the both of them.

They were still talking when Glory came back through and crashed onto her mattress. She waved a gesture of good night and then turned towards the wall and fell asleep almost instantly. It was comfortable, not too invasive, definitely not talking about anything real.

But still…it was nice.

She didn’t remember falling asleep but it could’t have been more than a few hours because people were still awake. But she only noticed the voices in the distance after she noticed the body sleeping next to her. Deacon had fallen asleep next to her and, taking a glance at their proximity, she was closer to him than Glory. She quickly put it down to the fact that Glory was a kicker and she still hadn’t found any shinguards.

But then she felt it…something around her hand. She was hesitant to look, and she flinched when she realised her hand was in his.

Had they fallen asleep like that? Or had it been in reflex? He; dreaming about his ex-wife. Her; dreaming about MacCready. 

_Probably the latter._

By her calculations it had over a fortnight since she’d seen him. Her letter to him had been brief, She was fine, alive, bored…glad he was okay.

Suddenly feeling the overwhelming need to get some fresh air she peeled her hand out of his (surprisingly) gentle grasp, silently got off the mattress and picked up her boots. The door to the escape tunnel didn’t make a noise when she opened it (she put a stop to that a while ago) and she carefully closed it behind her. She took a deep breath and put her boots back on with a groan.

She needed to take a step back, reevaluate the situation, put some distance between them before it went further. But even as she thought this, she lifted her hand to her face and ran the thumb of her other hand across the palm; she could still feel the warmth of his touch.

She couldn’t trust him, and he couldn’t trust her. They didn’t know anything about each other, by design obviously.

Playing a game with the Commonwealth’s ‘greatest’ liar had probably not been the smart move she originally thought it was. There was only one person she could talk to about it.


	24. The Science of Selling Yourself Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine needs help and there’s only one person she can turn to.
> 
> You’ve reached Hancock’s office, the doctor will see you now.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [The Science of Selling Yourself Short - Less Than Jake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krXG307d4k8))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My choices with this chapter and the next two were to extend them or create a new chapter. I decided to just make them longer and save that chapter space for something else.

_Nature teaches beasts to know their friends._

 

_"Come in, sit down.”_

_“Have I done something wrong, Sir?” She had to ask because she had no idea why she’d been dragged out of combat training and taken to the other side of the complex._

_“No,” he replied with a slight shake of his head and a lighthearted chuckle. “Do you know who I am?” He then asked as he silently invited her to sit down._

_“Yes Sir.”_

_She took the seat he had pointed to and took in her surroundings._

_Much like the Director’s, his office didn’t reflect the modern-setting of the rest of the place. The walls were a dark mahogany that absorbed as well as reflected the soft lights around the room, his credentials were on the wall behind his desk - shown off with pride - and all the furniture was old, antique._

_“Most children request a meeting with me within their first fortnight,” he began as he moved around to his side of the desk. He opened the file in front of him, unnecessarily because he had read ever page over a dozen times. “You’ve managed to go a whole six years.”_

_Do teenagers with regular parents get this treatment as well? Between all the combat and interrogation she received a regular, yet far more advanced, education. She knew that hormones went crazy when people were just going through puberty. But she’d been thirteen for less than a week, did they really think she was going to snap so early on?_

_“The officers here speak very highly of you.”_

_Her first recommendation had been at the age of ten, and even then he thought it a bit extreme._

_“Thank you, Sir.”_

_He looked away from the file he hadn’t been reading anyway, put his palms together, laced his fingers, and placed them on top of the file._

_“Are you proud?” He asked as he leant forward, beady brown eyes looked at her over the rim of his glasses._

_Such an ambiguous question. Then again, given he was the resident psychiatrist she supposed that was the point._

_Another test._

_“Of what, Sir?” She was getting sick of the tests that occurred outside the actual tests. She was adamant that no one else got this amount of attention. They’d been doing it to her for the past five years._

_That information alone spoke volumes to the reason why she didn’t need to be there. If she could go through everything she had so early on, there wasn’t anything more they could do to her._

_“Of my accomplishments? Of course Sir. Of my superiors respect? Affirmative. Of the recommendations I’ve received? No Sir.”_

_It took him by surprise, that much had been obvious. Most people knew by now what she could do and tried desperately to hide what they were really feeling. Nothing they ever did was hidden from her._

_“It says in your file that you prefer to work alone?”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

_“Is that why you haven’t accepted any of the positions offered to you? Because you’re afraid to lead?”_

_“No Sir. I prefer to work alone because I only have to look after myself, I alone am accountable for everything that happens.”_

_His eyes rose so high that time she thought his glasses would slip completely off his nose. He regained himself, pushed them back onto the bridge of his nose, and cleared his throat._

_He smiled at her, the same smile everyone gave her when she impressed them. It had become annoying rather quickly, she wasn’t there to impress people, she was there to do a job._

_Thirteen years old and more of a leader than anyone. The responsibility she put upon herself, the solo path she had taken to rest the blame of a failed mission solely on her shoulders. He always knew they were doing the right thing, helping future generations - reach their full potential - but it was hard to think of his own daughter speaking like that. But he wasn’t at home, he was at work, and he had a job to do._

_“I suppose you are wondering why I asked you here?”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

_“I don’t just help the children, even the officers need someone to talk to.”_

_“About what Sir?”_

_“Anything. Some people find talking to someone without scrutiny helps them function.”_

_“Why? Sir.” She was quick to add, her curiosity getting the better of her._

_“There are only a few places we can go and speak freely about what it is we do here.” In every country that had a HQ, there was a room just like this._

_“I understand that Sir, but why would people want to talk about it? There’s nothing we can do to change what’s happened, so why waste time thinking about it, let alone talk about it?”_

_“For some people talking it out loud to a person for the first time helps them go back through it, helps tell them they did the right thing. Or the wrong thing in some cases.”_

_“There isn’t much for me to talk about, everything I’ve gone through so far, everyone else has too, it’s not like I’ll be saying anything new, Sir.”_

_“Do you end every sentence with the word Sir.”_

_“Yes, Sir. Though I tend to address the women as ‘Ma’am.’”_

_There was a shrug of his shoulders, a sharp breath left his nose and he went to move his hand in front of his mouth. He was amused._

_“Why?”_

_“Because I must respect those who have come before me, those who have earned their place. Sir.”_

_“Does it surprise you to know that even the Director found this meeting unnecessary?”_

_“No, Sir. I have a meeting with the Director every fortnight, Sir.”_

_“What do you talk about?”_

_“I don’t have clearance to answer that, Sir.” His eyebrow raises over his forehead, the question of why about to leave him but she continued before he could speak. “It was a conversation between two people, in order for one party to indulge a third party in what was spoken the second party would have to be present and give their consent.”_

_His body went stiff, there were too many emotions written all over him at once, there was an aching in her head and she wasn’t sure if she, or the man in front of her, was the one having a stroke._

 

The world was still asleep, save for the crows that flew in the air (how they survived the War was still a mystery). She met little resistance, being able to sneak past what enemies she came across and so by the time she reached the gate, the streets of Goodneighbor were surprisingly empty (well, empty for Goodneighbor at least.)

Two new ghouls were standing guard outside the State House, she recognised them immediately. To her left stood Klein, an older ghoul that had been living rough when she was last here and to her right was Sapphire, a well known prostitute who had lived in Goodneighbor her whole life. She smiled to herself when she came to a realisation…Hancock had listened to her and was giving the people what they needed not just what they wanted.

_Well, that’s some personal growth right there._

Just like always, both doors were held open for her.

“You’re up early, Sunshine.”

She paused in the threshold, wondering if she’d imagined it but then quickly ushered herself inside and walked up the spiral staircase.

Hancock’s office was empty, which wasn’t unusual consider it was… _Five am_.

It had taken her a few hours to get here, and her and Deacon didn’t get back to HQ until after midnight. She thought it was later than that. Instinct must have kicked in whilst she was asleep, Deacon asleep next to her - with his hand in hers - wasn’t something she was used to. She imagined her own body waited until Deacon was completely asleep before waking her up, instinct telling her it was the safest option - in case she had to fight him off her.

Carefully, she opened the door to his bedroom and smiled at the sight in front of her. He looked almost innocent, his hands pressed together and rested against his cheek, probably for extra support, his knees were slightly bent and he was wearing a t-shirt. A white t-shirt, similar to one that…and now she was thinking about him.

_No_. Silently she stomped her foot down in defiance.

She wasn’t going to think about him, that was the whole reason she was in Goodneighbor, to get out of her head and away from him. She wasn’t running away, she’d _never_ run away, she was just…seeking advice. Hancock knew Deacon, probably more than Deacon realised because it was certainly the case with her. Hancock knew more than anyone should know about her, and she couldn’t go on blaming the Jet.

She needed to feel safe and so she stepped to the empty side of Hancock’s bed and shuffled out of her boots. She rolled the jumpsuit down her body, stepped out of it and gently slipped under the cover. She was getting into bed in her underwear, with Hancock of all people, and she smiled at the heart attack he would probably have when he woke up.

She’d barely been in a deep sleep (not that she really had those anymore and if she had she didn’t remember) when a rough hand was on her shoulder and she begrudgingly opened her eyes and made a noise of recognition.

“Sunshine?”

In one word she could tell Hancock was worried, confused…and a little turned on.

_Typical John_.

Her back clicked and she groaned as she rolled over to look at him, his hand now resting on her other arm, having not moved from its position in the air. But she could tell he tried really hard to let his hand move across her chest, in that particular moment she would have probably let him. It certainly wouldn’t have been the stupidest thing she’d done.

“You okay?”

His first question…Hancock really did care for her. And he was the first one in the Commonwealth to do so. His eyes darted from hers, to the forming bruise on her forehead, down to the scratch on her lip.

She copied his position, tucked her hands underneath her head and bent her knees so they brushed against his. She looked down into the dark abyss of the duvet before looking right into his eyes.

For one she was surprised he was looking her in the eye and not staring down at her chest, he had a pretty good view of it from how they were positioned. He didn’t react like he normally did, even after seeing them he always seemed surprised, he was used to it now. He and MacCready were the only people that were.

Hancock was right, what he’d said in the beginning, he’d seen her face now. She couldn’t take it back even if she wanted to, and she certainly didn’t want to. She loved Hancock about as much as he loved her.

“I love you,” she smiled. He laughed lightheartedly before reaching up to brush his thumb over the lump on her forehead.

“Wanna talk about it?” She also loved that about him, he never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to, but the one thing she was here to do was talk to him.

“I did something reckless,” her smile was delicate. “Fun, _really_ fun, but reckless.”

She started from the beginning, telling him everything that had happened since she left Goodneighbor to go back to the Railroad.

“You know Hancock,” her eyes bore into his soul. “I know you do.”

“Know what Sunshine?” If Hancock could see himself right now, he’d realise how nervous he looked. As if he’d just shat himself.

“That’s why you knew I joined the Railroad, because you knew where that holotape came from. Or _who_ it came from.” 

“I got two rules before I admit to anything,” she raised her eyebrow at him, the fact he had something to admit in the first place both confused and upset her. Hancock didn’t keep things from her. “One, you cannot hurt and/or kill me.”

She agreed immediately to that one.

“Two, you can’t hurt/or kill _him_ either.”

“Define ‘him’?”

“ _Deacon_.” He moaned. “You are not allowed to punish him either, ya hear?”

“One hundred percent John,” she moved her fingers over her chest, Hancock enjoyed a chance to actually look at it. “Cross my heart.”

Hancock sighed in defeat. Did _everyone_ forget that questions have no place in Goodneighbor?

“Amari came over to check on you once word got around you were awake. Of course you were asleep by the time she came but she checked on ya anyway.”

She knew she hadn’t been dreaming.

“She said you would have died if you’d been on your own.” 

It physically hurt him to say the words out loud. It was alright for her, she’d been unconscious (on the brink of death) back when everything was terrifying, when he thought he might lose her.

“The next bit you were awake for, we found that thing in your pack.”

“ _That’s_ when you knew?” 

“Deacon’s the only Railroad agent I see in Goodneighbor, most of ‘em are too scared to come in here.”

He skipped over her question intentionally and she decided to let it go, they both knew she’d forgive him.

“He came through the gate a few days after you collapsed through, the day before you woke up.” And Hancock still wasn’t sure if it had been a coincidence or not. “At first we all assumed he was just doing a job, then you found that holotape.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked, the hurt in her voice not forced at all.

“You had a two-inch long piece of shrapnel lodged in your skull,” he reminded her, “Amari operated on you for over five hours and you lost your memory. I’ve never been one to push, especially when the brain aint ready to accept it.”

“You were protecting me?” Of course he was, he always did.

“You bet ya ass I was. Then he came to see me, asked me to get you back to HQ.”

“Did he say what happened?” No was the obvious answer.

“He knew he’d fucked up, he slipped up a little when he was talking to me about ya.” Considering his line of work, Hancock did always find it odd that Deacon was nervous around him. Surely he’d faced worse.

His fists clenched automatically remembering Deacon’s part in the whole thing. They only relaxed when she laid a smooth hand over the fist on the mattress.

“How did he know I was here?”

“Word spreads pretty quickly around here.”

“ _John_.” The way she said it, she knew damn well who it made her sound like.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that, especially when you’re dressed like _that_.” He shamelessly scanned his eyes down her body, appreciating every delicious curve of her.

“Then get to your point quicker. Or I’ll tell her you seduced me,” she threatened.

Hancock’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?” The threat in her voice was obvious but her eyes gave her away. She needed to know.

“He talked about you coming into the Old Church, still didn’t know why you decided to go after the Railroad in the first place. Talked about the two of you clearing out an old HQ of theirs that was overrun with synths.”

A fact he was still not happy with.

“ _Then_ he tells me there was some sort of ‘fire and an explosion’ in the hallway.”

_The fragmentation mine_ \- that must have been what hit her.

“Said you seemed alright at first, then you started getting drowsy.”

“So he did follow me. Ho-how is that even possible? He left _before_ me.”

“I made a deal with him, some things he could skip over entirely, I gotta let the man keep some things.”

_Why?_ was her first question, then she was quick to think what it would have been like if their situations were reversed, she wouldn’t want people knowing everything either.

“But I can put two and two together and get four just like everyone else. You couldn’t have survived that journey on your own, nothing Deacon does is ever accidental. He walked into Goodneighbor that day because he was waiting for you to wake up, my bet is that he would have walked right in after you if he followed his heart rather than his head.”

Memories of her dreams about Nathaniel flashed in front of her.

“I think he carried me.”

“I know. You talk in your sleep.”

“Only when I’m on too many chems, thanks to you letting Amari stick whatever in me.”

“First of all, I’ll stick in ya whatever I damn well please if it means saving your life.” It was caring and laced with innuendo all at the same time, Hancock really was the best person to talk to. “Secondly, I’ve got to get secrets outta ya somehow.”

She knew what he was doing, making light of the situation so she didn’t feel too overwhelmed.

“You didn’t say his name or anything, but you were dreaming about a man carrying you.”

“It was the day we came home to announce our engagement.” Hancock knew she had been married, he was just foggy on the details. “He carried me across the road, the feel of his hand was different. Usually I hated it, the possessiveness of it.”

Her skin crawled even now at the memory of it.

“It was soft, protective. I looked up, and it wasn’t him. For a second he goes bald. I just didn’t realise I recognised the face at the time.”

Deacon had not told him that.

“Deacon saved my life.” She had to say it out loud just to confirm it to herself.

“Afraid so.” Hancock knew she wouldn’t be happy in the knowledge that she owed Deacon anything, let alone her life.

She went quiet, her eyes looking straight through him.

“Sunshine?” He eventually asked when he started to worry. “You okay?”

“What?” She blinked and came back to the present. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just realised it raises more questions than it answers.”

“How’d ya mean?”

“It helps explain why I dreamt about him in the first place. But it doesn’t tell me why I feel so comfortable around him, doesn’t go anywhere near telling _why_ he’d save my life in the first place. A woman he doesn’t even know.”

“Lots of people know you.”

“ _No_ lots of people know _of_ me and most of them don’t even realise it’s the same person. And it still doesn’t explain this _stupid_ game we started playing.”

“What kind of game exactly?”

“Chess. Kind of. I don’t know, I gave him back that holotape, he stole a wig. I left him that chessboard Fahrenheit gave me. He stole my Pip-Boy so I stole his sunglasses.”

“Sounds like a school yard crush to me. Won’t be long before he’s trying to pants ya.”

She instinctively locked her thighs together. No, the idea of Deacon ripping down her underwear did not affect her at all.

Not one little bit. 

She took a deep breath, she could do this, she could be _honest_ \- Hancock would never judge her.

“Actually…each time has ended with us, sort of, pinning each other against things.”

Invisible, long gone, eyebrows raised up Hancock’s forehead before twisting into confusion.

“When he realised I took his sunglasses, he woke me up by jumping on me. I’m the last person anyone should do that to,” she added with a smile. ”So, I guess you could say he was instinctively trying to protect himself when he locked my legs under his and pinned my wrists down.”

She moved her hand away from her cheek to look at her wrists, every second of that moment was etched into her brain and she couldn’t forget about it even if she tried. But she was trying to at least ignore it. Lying there with Hancock, completely safe and secure - because no one would protect her like he would - she was letting her guard down.

“How did you feel about it?”

“At the time, nothing, but after I flipped him over, I ended up doing the same thing to him and putting a knife to his throat. He. Stole. My. Pip-Boy.” She defended at the look on Hancock’s face.

No one but her (okay, sometimes she’d let MacCready play Red Menace on it) touched her Pip-Boy. It was big, really noticeable and quite rememberable but she’d had it since the beginning and the bastard thing really did come in handy _a lot_.

“After…? I don’t know, it was odd, kind of creepy, but I do have hormones like everyone else. We haven’t mentioned it since it happened.”

The only time they did speak about it was when it happened again, and that was only because Stockton walked in at the worst possible moment.

“I finally got around to returning that book from Daisy and he was outside the library. At first I thought he followed me, but he didn’t. He was genuinely surprised to see me.”

Then came the reason they ended up travelling to Goodneighbor together.

“He knew somewhere I could get it fixed, I knew it was in the opposite direction but I also know how Daisy gets if she finds out I’ve been within five hundred foot of the place and not stopped by.”

“Plus you had to give her that bracelet.”

“Exactly.” She beamed, happy in the knowledge that Daisy had shown it around. In all honesty she probably still was.

“We were coming back from the Vault, hadn’t said a word to each other since leaving, and then he started wandering off.”

In retrospect, she had probably tried to stop him because she didn’t know what to expect after Sam confirmed a caravan had been there.

“Next thing you know, we’re sleeping together - _not_ like that - it’s just, it’s different when inside the Railroad, there are walls - obstacles - in the way. Where we were, it was just a big empty space of _nothing_. It went weird from there…”

“Weird how?”

“He was distant, not himself at all, couldn’t even look me in the eye. Like he was locked inside his own head. I was finally on a real mission and Deacon was kind of ruining my high about it,” she chuckled.

Hancock knew she was trying to make light of the situation, she still felt vulnerable being honest; especially about herself. It was in that moment he realised how similar Deacon and her were, how they avoided talking about themselves at any cost, and if they did talk, it was on their terms.

“I said something about him being older and next thing I knew, he’d pinned me against the wall,” she tried not to bite her lip as she thought about it. “He didn’t say a word, just stood there; pinning my hands above my head…my legs locked around his thighs so I didn’t fall. There was a moment, just a small one, where I thought he was going to kiss me…’

“And for a moment you wanted him to."

She held up her thumb and index finger, leaving a tiny space between them. “Or at least whether or not I would have let him. Anyway, we moved past it, _again_ , and he acted more like himself. Did you know he quotes Shakespeare when he’s fighting?” she asked dreamily.

It was something she really like about him.

“We were on our way down from one of the safe houses and just as I was about to walk out of the elevator he said something…he _really_ shouldn’t have said.”

Hancock took a gentle hold of her hands and lifted her up as he sat, he positioned himself back against the headboard and raised his arm for her to lean in. She indulged him and took in the weirdly clean smell of his t-shirt.

_What the hell is that about?_ She raised a questioning eyebrow at him and he smiled coyly in response.

“No one has ever said it, I mean everyone’s noticed it, but no one in the Commonwealth has said it to my face. To my face, John.”

Well, the back of her head but still, it was in her presence and worse, it was directed at her.

“Is this about you,” he cleared his throat, “being ‘one with the ground’ so to speak?”

She breathed a laugh and buried her head in his side. “You make me sound like a garden gnome. But yes, he called me small.”

Hancock thought she was tiny, not just small. Even now, sat up, her body slumped against his, her toes barely brushed against his shin. He just wasn’t brave enough to tell her.

“So I wanted to prove to him that it’s never stopped me.”

_I’ve never been allowed to let it stop me._

“We ended up at the Combat Zone and I met a girl called Cait.”

“Cait ended up there, huh?”

“You know her?” she asked pointlessly, Hancock knew everyone.

“She drifted in and out of Goodneighbor a few years back, never knew where she ended up.”

“Well, she’s not there anymore. The Combat Zone had been shut down; indefinitely.”

She gave him the reasons for the marks on her face, what happened to the raiders there.

“Dogmeat will take her to Sanctuary; she’ll get help there.”

Hancock was always proud of her, and she knew he was sending drifters into her settlement but they didn’t talk about it.

The conversation quickly turned to what happened after the horror stopped. How her arms uncontrollably wrapped around his neck for support as she slid off the table, his arms around her waist. The fact they stayed that way even when her feet touched the ground.

“He’s seen my face, John.” 

Now she felt sad, more and more people were seeing it these days.

“How do you feel about that?”

Like she said, her time with Hancock was like therapy - and he played the character perfectly.

“On the one hand…there’s _literally_ nothing I can do to take it back. On the other…” She opened her mouth wide and let out a whispered scream and clenched her fingers.

It was not part of the plan. Not many people knew she was two-hundred years out of time, only the important ones, but she knew a man like Deacon, with his skill set, would see it straight away. He’d see that she wasn’t like the other women in the Commonwealth, that she was different, and she knew a man like Deacon would also go to any lengths to figure out why.

“And I don’t know how I feel about the fact he hasn’t said anything about it.”

It was true, now she had time to dwell on it. No one, no matter how brief the moment was, could stop themselves from at least moving something, let alone saying something. But Deacon did nothing, no mouth hanging open, no eyebrow raise, shoulder twitch, foot shuffle - nothing. He really was an amazing liar. Then her mind travelled back to what he did instead, he wiped her face clean, gently, softly…

“Like he cared about me.”

“Well, of course he cares about you! Who bloody doesn’t?” He squeezed her shoulder, pressing her further into his side.

But then Deacon changed, the second Tommy went to touch her he went from soft and gentle, too almost primal.

“Oh god John, it went places things like that shouldn’t go, not in a sane mind anyway.”

“Good thing that ain’t the case here, for either of us.”

She tapped a hand down on his stomach in feigned insult.

“It was almost like he was protective of me. Even after everything I’d just shown him.”

“Well, Sunshine. He probably is protective of you, he’s no doubt been invested in you for a long time.”

She peeled herself away from his body and rested her back against the headboard, she still had to look up to talk to him and he had to look down but they both ignored it.

“What do you mean?”

Hancock responded with a smirk. _Surprised you haven’t figured it out, Sunshine._

“I hadn’t seen that kid for weeks. Months even, and suddenly he turns up in his usual drifter get-up and less than twenty-four hours later, you come waltzing, well limping, through the gate.”

“He came from Diamond City, I saw him there.”

She hadn’t discussed it with anyone. Not even Deacon himself.

“My caps are on that he followed you right from the beginning, Sunshine.”

“Mine too.” She breathed a laugh before looking up at him.

_Really_ looking at him. He seemed slightly more relaxed but still seemed a little off. It took her a moment before it hit her.

“John, are you worried about me?”

“I’m always bloody worried about you,” he rasped. “You give me every reason in the world to worry about you. What about MacCready?”

“What about him?” Hancock liked to twist the conversation sometimes, especially with her. She swore he was trying to catch her off guard.

“Well, you’ve not seen him since you joined the Railroad. Since you liberated Castle,” He noted the raise of her eyebrow. “Oh yeah, he told me. Found yourself an older model, eh?”

“I prefer men who wear hats,” she flirted with a wink. “and you make it sound like I’ve got a ring on my finger.”

Her held up her hand, no ring in sight. She sold it as soon as she could and she never let herself tan so there was no lasting reminder of a life that once was. This new her, General, Whisper, Boss…whoever she was, was never married.

“Besides, it’s definitely not the same thing with Deacon. I actually know RJ, I _know_ I can trust him.”

She knew she couldn’t trust Deacon. You can’t trust someone who lies for a living, she knew that.

“We just walked into Boston Library together, one thing led to another and we’ve just sort of _stayed_ that way.”

It wasn’t the same thing…it really wasn’t! Anything she had felt about Deacon had been in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline rushing through her veins. It had been different with MacCready, they knew each other, they were protective of each other. They loved each other.

It was obvious that Deacon cared about her, and she supposed she cared about him too. Otherwise she would have let those Raiders kill him, or aimed better. She wasn’t used to people being protective of her, seeing her as someone who needed to be…Deacon had been protective of her in the Combat Zone, when Tommy tried to touch her…but that was probably just in the heat of the rush…

“So you’re screwing him now instead?”

“No!” She cursed herself that she let her bottom lip slip between her teeth. “I’m not ’screwing’ anyone. _Don’t_ …look so happy about that fact.” She added to the smile on his face. “Besides, I barely know anything about him. Other than the fact he lies, a lot.”

“Pot kettle black Sunshine.”

“There’s a difference between lying and not telling the whole truth.”

It was a small difference, a fine line, but a difference all the same. That’s what mattered.

“And I only lie to marks. Or when the Silver Shroud is in town.”

“The Shroud making another appearance in Goodneighbor?”

She shook her head, Goodneighbor was quiet and it had been that way from a while now. Word had got around that the town was under protection, so those who came to Goodneighbor were on their guard and hardly anyone really dangerous came through anymore. Hancock must be getting bored.

“I’ve not spoken to Kent for a while, and last time I was here he said he was working on improvements. Besides, Daisy will have a fit if I don’t check in and I don’t trust anyone not to tell her I was here. You’re bloody terrified of her.”

He was. He wasn’t afraid to admit it, he’d seen sides of Daisy no one else had - the mean, spiteful evil bitch she could be. Daisy took life seriously enough for the both of them, blaming him for everything that went wrong in Goodneighbor, but now, since the Silver Shroud had cleaned up the streets, Daisy only ever talked to him about Sunshine. She was right, Daisy would probably die of a heart attack and curse him with her last breath.

“So you’re avoiding him now?”

“Not exactly, I just need to get away from HQ for a while. The Railroad are kind of slow in finding the Institute.”

“You know what I’m gonna say to ya.”

“I tell you too much sometimes. I will John, I will. But I’m learning a lot about the Institute travelling with Deacon. He’s been with the Railroad a long time, he knows a lot about them.”

Not that they’d discussed it outside the boundaries of work. Not that _anyone_ in the Railroad talked about _finding_ the Institute. People had told her they were and she was beginning to think, like so many times before, the people were wrong.

 

* * * *

 

Deacon was rudely awoken by the heart attack in his chest, that, once he opened his eyes, Glory had been responsible for.

“Sucks being on the other side of that, doesn’t it?” A slight raise of her eyebrows and the chin thrust was enough to cement it as the warning Deacon took it as anyway.

Waking up and not remembering falling asleep was becoming a regular thing, though the first time it happened he had a good excuse, considering Glory and Whisper had drugged him. Jesus, that seemed like a lifetime ago. He would have regaled on his past with Whisper a little more if he hadn’t come to the realisation that he had not woken up on his usual mattress and he was in the tunnel.

The fact that Glory was next to him meant Whisper wasn’t on hers. With Glory still above him he ignored the tingling in his hand. 

“Where’s Whisper?” He asked casually, knowing full well Glory could read his concern.

“No idea,” she shrugged. “What did you do?” she asked once he was sat up, his back against the wall.

He held his palm up to his face and examined it, it was empty and didn’t have any scratches or cuts on it but it felt different.

“I have no idea.”

“She’s probably where she always is.” Glory recognised the concern in his voice, the overwhelming demeaning voice that was inside his head. Deacon had always been quick to blame himself when the worst happened. The pressures of the job were bad enough, but he seemed determined to add to them.

_Goodneighbor._

Whisper loved going there and Deacon wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Yeah, she could take care of herself (that much she had proven already) but he was still unsure about her relationship with Hancock. Maybe he was her Goodneighbor version of MacCready - someone she went to when she needed to fuck something. Only God knew what those two got up to when they were high on the chems they shared and Deacon wasn’t sure if he wanted to know - unsure if the answer would make him feel better or worse.

“We have yet to discuss it, you know.” He pointed out.

“You’re welcome.” And Glory was just grateful it was enough to shut him up.

“Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say.” He wasn’t, they both knew that, but no matter what bullshit would have come out, it was what he meant.

“So Whisper’s alone in Goodneighbor and you’re okay with that, are you?” 

Glory had always suspected Deacon wasn’t quite right in the head - fuck, none of them were - he was easily fixated by things. If he’d known about Whisper for as long as she suspected then Deacon would be fragile in the knowledge that she wasn’t inside HQ. Deacon never liked people going where he couldn’t follow. And fuck knows what he thought Whisper and Hancock’s relationship was.

He could feel Glory’s eyes analysing him. He hated not knowing things, Glory knew that better than anyone and she also knew that he had invested quite a lot in Whisper. Though no one knew exactly how much time he’d invested in her, that was a secret he would take to his grave.

_You just don’t want people to know how much of a stalker you are._

 

* * * *

 

“John, are you bored?” she asked once they took a break from talking about her.

“A little,” he admitted. “The classy little tricorn hat of mine is getting heavy, kinda miss being out on the road.”

“Well, I promise that when I have the time I will get your sweet lil ass out of here,” she winked.

“I’m gonna hold you to that Sunshine,” Hancock smiled coyly. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into him, she moved her own arm over his stomach and squeezed his waist.

They were enjoying the moment when it was ruined, Fahrenheit came bursting into the room and she wasn’t sure who the bodyguard was more mad at, her or Hancock. She certainly looked pissed.

“How many times have I gotta tell you, _knock_.” For the first time all morning he heard him speak like the Mayor. The transition was seamless, perfect. 

“Sorry, just thought the Mayor would like to do his job today.”

Hancock moaned and moved to get up, she begrudgingly followed suit, immediately aware that Fahrenheit’s eyes were on her the moment she stood up in her underwear. She didn’t seem so tense anymore.

“Take the backdoor Sunshine,” he advised when she was fully dressed and stepped into his office.

“Did you- _seriously_? The _back door_?” A small part of her was genuinely offended. Like she was some whore he tossed out. 

“Daisy’s shop will be open by now and if she sees you step out without seeing ya step in…she will _fucking_ kill me.”

“Coward.” She smiled as she closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback scenarios usually happen when I'm out of my face and haven't slept much, because apparently that's when my brain decides it wants to write.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. You're a true hero if you've made it this far XD


	25. Fucked Up Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper runs into an old friend...it escalates quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following immediately on from the last chapter because it’s too much of an evil cliffhanger and I needed the smut a bit, it’s been a while lol.
> 
> Consider it a present to everyone I suppose.
> 
> (Chapter Title: Fucked Up Situation - My Darkest Days)

_Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue._

 

The streets of Goodneighbor were a little busier than they were several hours ago but there were definitely less people living rough, she knew this because the majority of them were usual asleep on the ground until midday, nursing a headache from a night spent in the Third Rail, but there were only a handful of people now and there were no unattended sleeping bags in sight.

She’d all but forgotten about her encounter with Klein and Sapphire until she walked past the first group of Neighbourhood watchmen and she heard it again. She wasn’t imagining it, hearing things, people were definitely calling her ‘Sunshine’, in fact everyone she walked past called her Hancock’s nickname. When she went back into his office she would have to bring it up with him. But she had somewhere she had to go first, Daisy would kill her if she went anywhere else.

Even through the window she could see how packed Daisy’s shop was, she considered waiting until the queue died down a little but she knew the second Daisy spotted her she’d drop everything, ignore her customers and solely put her attention on her, which wasn’t exactly good for business. Her hand reached for the doorknob but stopped when she felt a surge along her spine, as if someone was dragging their fingers along her back. It was a familiar feeling, one she hadn’t felt for a while and she knew what had caused it before she even turned around.

There he was, in his signature coat and hat, looking adorable as ever and as if he could feel her presence too, he turned around and they locked eyes at the same time. A huge smile erupted over her face and she threw her bandana and sunglasses on the ground before running towards him and jumping into his outstretched arms.

His arms locked around her the second she slammed her chest against his and it took all the strength he had to keep them both upright.

“RJ,” she breathed before burying her face in his neck.

People were watching, that much she could tell, but it was hardly big news that her and MacCready were close.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when she peeled herself off him and took hold of his hands. Her thumbs rubbed affectionately over the back of his hands and she studied his face.

He looked exactly the same but completely different.

“Daisy said she’s got some news about Duncan.” he smiled widely, both happy to hear some news about his son and to see the boss again.

He peeled one hand out of her grasp to gently run a thumb along her lip and his eyes were fixated on the bruise on her forehead. In all the time they’d spent together the boss never once got injured, she never messed up her face either.

“Just took a little trip to the Combat Zone…has Dogmeat not come back to Sanctuary?” She answered the question of his face, loving the concern of it.

“Oh yeah, and I’m sure your refugee has settled in just fine. Got a bit of an attitude problem hasn’t she?”

MacCready was taking a familiar safe path when he saw the dog. To be fair, Dogmeat saw him first, for MacCready it took a lick to the face to realise what had knocked him down. He knew the second that feisty Irish redhead came walking up the path behind him that she’d had sent her to Sanctuary, Dogmeat to show her the way. The reason as to why was answered when he looked at her, she needed help. Just like everyone else that came to Sanctuary.

A complete stranger that had been allowed into the inner sanctum so quickly…she must be in real need. And then Cait told him what happened. He was a little jealous he missed it and Deacon had been there. They never discussed the Railroad, even in their letters, and he wondered if she’d recognised him straight away.

They had seen him, MacCready didn’t even know, about a dozen times. Sure he looked different but MacCready recognised that son of a bitch every time. He let him carry on, knowing the man must be leading a pretty boring life if he had nothing better to do than to follow the two of them around. It also made fucking her brains out that much more enjoyable, knowing the smug bastard had probably spied on them once or twice. _Everyone_ wanted her, whether they knew what she looked like or not, and he wondered if Deacon had the privilege of seeing her face yet.

But the way she casually ripped off her bandana and threw her sunglasses on the floor before running into his arms had him wondering why he cared.

He nudged the side of her face with his chin, she obliged and turned to face him and within moments his mouth was opening hers and their tongues were sliding across each other. It was different, not like how it was before and he felt a shift in their relationship, also a shift in his pants when she pressed a hand over his groin. It wasn’t a question of want, he knew she felt the difference in their kiss too, but they needed it, they needed each other.

“Hotel Rexford. Now,” he growled in her ear.

 

* * * *

 

Hancock lifted the cigarette to his mouth, took a drag and then flicked the ash over the side of the balcony. He watched over the town, accounted for all his people, even some new ones, and his eyes fell on the sight of Sunshine running into the arms of her favourite mercenary.

“Boss,” Fahrenheit entered the room. “MacCready’s in town.”

“I know,” he stated as he took another drag. 

“She’s with him.”

“I can see that Far.” His eyes were glued to the two of them as they kissed. “You never did tell me why you offered to watch over her.”

“You never explained why you insisted she stay in your bed and I keep fifty candles lit at all times.”

“That’s funny, I remember hiring ya, but I don’t remember marrying ya.”

“You didn’t hire me, you _asked_ me to join you.”

“Practically begged if I recall,” Hancock inhaled the last puff of his cigarette, exhaling as he stubbed it out with his foot.

He looked up in time to see MacCready dragging her in the direction of the Rexford.

_I hope ya know what ya doin’ Sunshine._

 

* * * *

 

She didn’t.

She didn’t say a word as she let MacCready drag her to the Rexford, get the key to room fifteen (because Claire had stopped renting it out to anyone else) and take her up the stairs. She was too busy being lost in her head. She’d kissed MacCready lots of times and she always got the same sensation when she did but not this time. There were no goosebumps forming over her skin, there was no overwhelming urge to throw him on the ground and ride the crap out of him. There was nothing.

What was she supposed to make of that? It had only been about a month, she couldn’t have changed that much…could she? Or was it MacCready who had changed?

There wasn’t time to answer anything, by the time she caught up with what was happening MacCready’s hand was pulling down the zip of her jumpsuit. Of course it had to end this way, after all it was pretty much how it started in the first place.

MacCready kissed down her torso, following every inch of skin that was exposed, she closed her eyes and her back arched at the sensation of him. The soft roughness that came with his stubble, the beautiful familiarity of his lips on her.

Then an image of Deacon flashed in her mind and she opened her eyes to get rid of it.

No, for one moment today it wasn’t about him.

This was about her and MacCready.

Hoping it would comfort her she took the cap off his head and put it on hers, taking a moment to run her free hand through his luxurious hair. 

Both his hands crept up her body, slipping into the new divide in her jumpsuit and carefully peeled it off her body. Her body rose like a wave as she moved to accommodate him.

MacCready made a point to kiss every inch of skin, relishing in the way it goose pimpled. So their relationship had changed, didn’t mean he didn’t still turn her on. He’d had a lot of time to figure out what she did and didn’t like.

As his mouth found its way towards her neck, his hand slid down her tight stomach, slipped underneath her underwear. When he brushed his finger against her clit, she whined and he’d forgotten how much he’d missed hearing it.

She pushed him slightly and he sat back on his knees, a little confused. Then she crept her hands over his shoulders and dragged his coat off his body. He had also missed her touch.

Her nails scratched at his skin as she dragged them down his arms, her hands cupped his and lifted them into the air. His stomach muscles flinched when he felt her fingers on his stomach, seconds before he felt her pulling up his t-shirt.

_There it is_. She looked down at his lean torso, it really was beautiful, just not as beautiful as…

Her fingers clawed at his skin as she dragged him down on top of her. He used one hand to steady himself above her whilst the other worked with one of hers to get their underwear off.

Her lips dragged over his jaw a few times, so did his but they never met. They didn’t need to, they both knew that kissing each other wasn’t what it used to be. It didn’t stop him from kissing and biting down on the rest of her. 

A hand wrapped after his aching cock and positioned it at her entrance. He wasted no time in thrusting into her.

She was still tight, and he took it as a good sign that she hadn’t fucked anyone else either. He would always care about her, would always love her but that kiss had proven the one thing he already knew, it was what it was. This was just the perfect way to say goodbye to what they had.

MacCready pushed his body down against hers as his hips moved hard and slow against her, she braved enjoying the moment and closed her eyes.

The second she did it wasn’t MacCready’s stomach pressed against her, his muscles were too tight, too big to be his and she’d been pressed up against them when she shouldn’t have been too many times not to recognise whose body her brain was imagining.

Once again she opened her eyes, deciding that they were staying open, and clawed at his back as she tried to absorb herself in him. They hadn’t said a word to each other yet, not since they were on the street, and they still hadn’t tried to kiss each other. Their bodies were two separate entities that co-existed perfectly when joined. He knew every curve, every angle that hit her perfect.

He knew her and she knew him. Words weren’t needed. 

He tugged at her hair, pulling her up to bite on her neck as his hips gained momentum. She gasped and moaned and the first word was spoken when his name left her in a whisper.

He sat back on his knees, bringing her with him so his dick stayed inside her cunt. MacCready wrapped his arm around her back to support her as the other removed itself from her hair and reached down to play with her clit. He’d worked out the perfect rhythm a while ago so it wasn’t long before she was bucking up frantically against him, her pelvic bone hitting against his.

She started to moan louder, fucked herself on MacCready dick and against his finger, and this time he didn’t cover her mouth when she came. He was quick to pull out before enjoying his own orgasm.

She will never admit, even to herself, the effort she had to put in to stop another name leaving her. Even with her eyes open she couldn’t stop picturing it.

“You okay, boss?” He panted, half smirking.

She loved the way he still called her that. It was enough to pull her back into the moment. She nodded in response, because she didn’t have the energy to lie out loud.

“You?” She ran a hand through his hair as he went to rest his head on her chest.

“Absolutely.” He smiled and then moved to curl his half-naked body against hers. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Funny how a kiss can change everything, though.”

She nodded against him, pressing her body into his, desperate willing herself not to think about anything other than him.

 

* * * *

 

“Dez just asked me if you were okay,” advised Glory. “You need to chill the fuck out man.”

Whisper had been gone less than twenty-four hours and he was acting like she’d been missing for weeks. The pile of cigarettes was back, he was leaning against his favourite wall. Sure, a normal person wouldn’t see the difference but they were all good at reading people. Eventually someone else was bound to notice and Glory was hoping she could snap him out of it.

“I’m fine.” He replied.

“I thought you were a good liar. She’s in Goodneighbor.” Glory moved to stand next to him, matching his posture, so he didn’t look so fucking awkward. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

_She could overdose on chems._

_She could drink herself to death_

_She could get shot._

_She could sleep with Hancock._

He tried to shake off his discomfort by switching the leg he was leaning on, anything not to make it look obvious.

“I’ve never known you to let someone get to you like this, you know.” She hadn’t, not like _this_ anyway. Marks were a different story, if Deacon didn’t get his straight away he obsessed over it. He never acted this way when it came to another agent.

“As per usual Glory, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

_Holy crap, Deacon is so full of shit._

“Sure you don’t. Anyway, my point is that you need to chill out and just wait. Patience is a virtue Deacon,”

He was the one that taught her that.

“You know, I really don’t need someone to tell me my own advice.”

“Asshole.” She punched him in the usual spot and walked away.

_You always push away the ones you care about_. Of course he did, it was the only way he could protect them. He had to keep them close but at a distance, he had to know them but they couldn’t know him.

_It’s safer for everyone that way._

 

* * * *

 

“So, how are things going with the Railroad?”

She peeled her head off his chest to stare at him. MacCready had refastened his trousers, her panties were safely back around her hips. She wore his t-shirt as she rested herself against him, completely (finally) lost in the moment.

They never spoke about the Railroad, that was their one rule - a rule he came up with.

“I’m still not actually part of it, technically speaking anyway. I’m still on probation.” It had been a while since she said it out loud. Nope, still hurt.

“Oooh, I bet that hurts.”

“Does this?” she asked. MacCready had less than a second to look confused before she elbowed him in the ribs. _That_ he had not missed.

“No, but seriously, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Well, I’ve still not found the Institute, so no. But at least I’ve found people that know _something_ about them too.”

“You know, there’s a certain detective in Diamond City who knows about them too.”

Her entire body had changed, she hadn’t forgotten.

“It’s been over three months, don’t you think its time to swallow your pride?”

“This isn’t about pride, RJ. He’s from there, sure, but he doesn’t remember anything about it.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, have you figured out how you know his name yet?”

She shook her head, she hadn’t given it much thought. She avoided thinking about Diamond City at all costs.

“He was a detective during my time and I never needed one. Pretty sure I never had one looking for me either.”

She never had the same face when she came to America.

Back in Sanctuary, in the house she didn’t step foot in, in the bedroom she didn’t sleep in, was a safe. A safe only she could open, one that hadn’t been opened for over two centuries. It contained everything, every piece of evidence she had collected during her mission, every file she had stolen from base before leaving. In case they ever got attacked, she thought it the safer option to keep her records on her, save them from burning up. At least, she assumed the safe was still there.

Not even MacCready knew about it, no one did.

“You’ll figure it out, you always do.”

“It is what it is.” She smiled. He reciprocated, knowing what she really meant.

They were going to be okay.

She spent a few more hours with MacCready, catching up on events at Sanctuary and checking for herself that his wounds had completely healed. His stomach muscles twitched and he let out a breathed giggle when she ran her hand over his torso. Her time with him was nice, a little weird but still nice. They were still comfortable around each other, he was still her best friend but now, that’s all he was, any sexual attraction they had towards each other had evaporated and she knew MacCready felt it too. Neither of them mentioned it, they always accepted their relationship for what it was and they’d even said that the sex part was never a part of it, but still, it was odd to think that the man who had been solely responsible for her orgasms over the last four months was probably never going to give her another one again.

They hugged goodbye, tighter than normal because they really were saying goodbye to each other. Or at least a part of each other. They said they loved each other, and although she knew they both meant it, they meant it in a completely different way now.

She waited for the gate to close behind him before running off towards the Old State House, she wasn’t exactly sure why, but she felt the sudden urge to tell Hancock about what just happened.

“Now, how’s that for coincidence,” he commented, turning away from the window and looking at her. “I notice you weren’t groping each other as you hugged. So it was a good break-up?”

“It wasn’t a break-up,” she scoffed. “But yeah, we’re not going to be having sex any time soon.”

“Except for a few hours ago?”

“Ho-were you spying on me?”

“It’s hardly spying when you’re sticking your tongue down his throat in the middle of the street.”

“Careful John, you sound a little jealous.”

A part of him was, amongst everything else he was feeling. He would have liked to see the look on her face when she came. _Bet she looks fucking amazing._

She was smiling, teasing him, but Hancock could see it in her eyes.

“What happened?”

“I-I can’t talk about it.” Because she couldn’t, even to herself she couldn’t admit everything that happened inside her head.

“I’m here if you need me, Sunshine.” He offered her a loving smile.

“I know John, I know.” She laid a gentle hand on his ruined cheek.

“How are your hands so soft?” He asked, taking hold of the one that had been on his cheek.

“Gloves, John, and two-centuries frozen solid apparently does wonders for the skin.”

“Hey, s’not like it could get much worse right?” He rasped, gesturing to himself.

“I think you’re perfect.” She really did.

“Funny, I was gonna say that about you.” A few minutes of silence past before he spoke again. “Time to go home Sunshine.”

“I know,” she huffed. She didn’t know what was worse, going back to HQ and doing nothing, or having to be stuck doing that with _Deacon_.

They had a lot to discuss. 

It was late in the evening, she’d been gone for over a day already (in fairness she’d been away for longer before), by the time she reached the Old Church it would be morning.

She had not forgotten that she had yet to visit Daisy, and by the time she left the Old State House her shop was closed. She made a promise to visit her straightaway the next time she was in town, though she knew Daisy wouldn’t make her feel any less guilty about not seeing her this time around.

She closed the escape door carefully behind her and took two steps forward before she saw the object on her mattress. She noticed that particular shade of blue immediately, even the smug smile on that stupid kid’s face.

A Vault-Tec bobblehead.

It looked like the one MacCready had picked up in Vault 114 but that was on her bedside table back in Sanctuary, this one was different.

She bent down to pick it up, her eyes moving to scan over the war room.

_Deacon._

No one who knew her, besides MacCready and Piper, knew for a fact that she came from a vault. She never wore her Pip-Boy in HQ and any time someone brought it up she just told them she stole it. 

She told Deacon she found it, but she’d already had a feeling he’d been outside Vault 111 the day she rose up from it and after talking to Hancock about him, that feeling had been all but confirmed. 

She still needed to go back up there and look.

Of all the things he could have left her…A Vault-Tec bobblehead. Firstly, where the hell did he find it? Secondly, was he telling her he was there when she came out of the vault? How long had he had it?

Whatever the answer to those questions were it didn’t matter, the bobblehead was telling her one thing.

_We’re still playing kid._

“Son-of-a-bitch,” she sprung off her mattress and stormed into the war room. She kicked a pretending-to-sleep Deacon.

“Good morning!” she beamed. “Thanks for the present, boss!”

She yelled, loud enough for the whole room to hear. 

“Whisper?” 

Dez came striding over and Deacon was suddenly on his feet, ready to step in. Any moment now.

“Yeees Desdemona?”

“Why do you keep calling Deacon ‘boss’?” she raised a questioning eyebrow at him. She was used to him doing this by now, she had just been hoping their little talks had put some sense into him. It was pointless, they never did.

“Because that’s what he is,” she whispered. “But we don’t talk about it.”

“Okay…"

She let that one go but not before flashing a look at Deacon, one he knew wasn’t lost on Whisper, that told him _we are going to talk about this._

“Well, that was quite bold don’t you think?” she asked once Dez had walked away. “Asserting her ‘authority’ like that.”

There was no way she hadn’t found it, he’d left it on her mattress for crying out loud so her casual attitude was telling him one thing, she knew he was playing a game and she was happy to play along. 

Glory was right, he had to ‘chill the fuck out’, everything had got a bit too serious. They need to do something fun.

“I don’t know about you boss but it’s pretty boring around here.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, Desdemona’s run out of missions, Carrington is being less bitchy…fancy taking this ‘still-not-good-enough-to-be-considered-an-agent’ on a mission of yours instead?” 

“The idea of a codename is that it’s short Whisp.’ 

For example.

“Unless you abbreviate the thing. But then you’d be Sngetobcaa. And I’m pretty sure that’s not a word kid.”

He knew it annoyed her. Not always…but he had to pick his moments just right.

It took every ounce of her not to even move at his word. There was an age difference obviously…though she rarely thought about it. And now there was their height difference…Deacon just had a way of making her feel like a kid, calling her one just made it worse. 

“I mean, you must have loads of contacts living all over.”

_Because somehow you know almost everything I’ve done since I’ve been here._

“I’m sure I can find us something,” he shrugged casually. This was what he wanted, to take her on the road on a mission that had nothing to do with the Railroad or the Minutemen. Something fun. Just what the doctor ordered.

“Okay boss,” she tucked her hands behind her back and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Where are we going?”

He pretended to think for a moment, having known exactly what mission to take her on the second they met. 

“I know someone in Bunker Hill. But you’re gonna have to dress up, you’ve worn that jumpsuit for too long now, our cover will be blown the second we step through the gate.”

She hid her look of disbelief, even though he couldn’t see it. Deacon was a fine one to talk about being recognised, if everyone was like Piper then they always knew it was him - no one just ever said anything.

“You got it! We’ll have to stop over in Goodneighbor. I leave clothes there all the time,” she added casually. Though she’d literally just come from there.

Yep, Hancock was definitely her Goodneighbor version of MacCready.

All the hairs on the neck of her neck pricked before she turned around, she had to force herself not to lunge at him. There he stood, in a pompadour wig that made him look like a bad Elvis impersonator, and a fucking Vault suit.

“This particular mark thinks we work out of Vault 95.”

_Bull. Shit._

The sooner they got to Goodneighbor the better.

She took off her hat and bandana the moment they stepped through the gate.

The good thing about Goodneighbor was that no one ever asked questions, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t raise any. And somehow Hancock seemed to know everything that happened in the town. Particularly when it came to her. 

Deacon was surprised at how willing Whisper was to take off half her outfit, reveal most of her face - she was ridiculously comfortable in Goodneighbor, he could see why; no one asked questions. It was one of the things he loved about the place. The Vault suit struck a nerve and Deacon hid a smile. The bobblehead had rattled her, that much he could tell, but she’d done well to hide it (just like a lot of things) and she was quick to remind him she believed at least a few of his lies.

_At least that’s something I suppose._

“Did you want to look around?”

Deacon probably had a lot he needed to catch up on, and Daisy required her attention.

Hancock had promised her he hadn’t threatened anyone, but people were certainly a lot nicer to her. Really nice. And suddenly everyone was calling her Sunshine now. It was strange enough having Daisy and Hancock call her that…let alone everyone else.

“I’ll meet you in the Memory Den. You can stare at Irma whilst I talk to Kent.”

“Sure thing kid,” he wandered off towards KL-E0’s shop. "KL-E0! How ya doin’ sexy?”

“Honey, please, you couldn’t handle this much woman.”

She smiled and walked towards her first stop.

“Daisy?” she asked, her face buried against Daisy’s cardigan. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you yesterday.”

“It’s okay, Robert told me what happened, you okay?” 

Daisy’s eyes ran over her. It was always pointless to wear her sunglasses in front of Daisy, the woman could see everything.

She nodded.

“There’s something different about you…” she hummed.

“What?” Her face contorted into absolute confusion.

“I’m not sure.” Daisy’s finger tapped on her lip, her hips rocking from side to side, as her eyes studied her. “But give me time, I’ll figure it out.” 

“Well, if you’re okay here I need to go see John. I’m finally doing something real and I need to change.”

“I’m fine sweetie, good ahead. Just, be careful, okay?”

“I always am Daisy.”

The woman liked to hug her a lot. _Mother’s probably held their children like this…_

Most of the time she’d just barged in, or was led up the stairs and into his office. It felt odd to knock on the door, but she did regardless. Out of respect. He was still the Mayor after all.

And who knew what he could be doing in there. Or who. 

“Come in,” came the gravelly voice she came to love.

“John?”

At the soft tone of her voice he was up on his feet and tugging her into a hug.

People liked hugging her a lot lately.

“Sunshine,” he bent down to kiss her forehead. “What happened, miss me that much?”

“Actually, I’m here because I need a costume, I’m going on an undercover mission,” she always told Hancock more than she did Daisy.

“Is that why you keep leaving your stuff here?” 

“No,” she smiled and removed her sunglasses. “I’m leaving them here because I’m slowly moving in.”

She breathed a laugh and her eyelids fluttered. She saw him groan. They liked playing this game, ever since she became…okay (comfortable wasn’t quite the right word yet) with Hancock seeing her face. He was more affectionate sure, but he was still a man. 

“Well there aint nothin slow about me,” he laughed. “Hard and fast. Always.”

And he gave as good as he got. It was always fun. 

“So what’s this mission?” he asked as he led her to his quarters.

“I don’t know.”

She stepped into the room and started opening up random drawers. She really needed to be more organised. 

“Deacon’s got a mark that passes through Bunker Hill, so we’re going there.”

The tone of the room changed then. Not because she started shuffling out of her trousers, it was something else. Hancock suddenly seemed really uncomfortable.

“John…?” 

“Still travelling with him then?” 

“For now,” she replied cautiously.

“Has he told you how he joined the Railroad?”

No. In fact, the question hasn’t even occurred to her. How the hell did he come to be part of the Railroad?

She shook her head. 

“He single-handedly took out a vicious group of synth-haters called the UP Deathclaws.”

_Holy crap_. Why the hell was that sexy?

She didn’t want it to be, she didn’t even want to think about it but she couldn’t help it. Just the image of him gunning down a group of savages…shirt off, muscles rippling as the gun ricocheted in his grip.

“H-he never told me that.” 

Not that she expected anything less. He rarely said anything real. Neither of them did.

“Yeah…" 

She thought for a moment, her hands pressed against the bottom on the drawer, forgetting why they were there, and a million synapses fired in her brain.

UP Deathclaws…University Point. She’d been there. On her way to find Billy. Had Deacon and his wife lived there…?

“Didn’t end well…” she repeated a distance memory. “He was avenging the death of his wife.”

Hancock’s face confirmed her statement.

Deacon really was another person who lost someone he loved. Everyone she met in the Commonwealth had to overcome the loss of someone close to them, was it any wonder Deacon was part of that list?

“She was a synth,” another moment of realisation.

Hancock shrugged. “He’s never confirmed it but like I said before, anyone can put two and two together, you know?” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Hancock was always a ‘live and let live’ sort of person, never one to talk about someone; except her. 

Of course she was grateful to know, something this bad…it would take Deacon a while to say it out loud. It was probably the reason he wore sunglasses, so no one could see the torment in his eyes.

_He must be heartbroken._

“Because I know how much you like to level the playing field and as I said yesterday, Deacon probably knows more about you than you think.”

Which was the main reason she was still happy to travel with him, he was the last piece of the puzzle that was the Railroad and she was still struggling to find out how he fit.

“You’re not going to Bunker Hill dressed as the Shroud, are ya?” he asked when she pulled out the black coat and hat.

“No,” she scoffed.

She rummaged a little longer, desperate to find something suitable to wear. Leather was out of the question, thanks to the idiot outside and it took another few minutes for her to reason a decision. Without so much as a warning she rolled her jumpsuit down her body and put on a pair of grey suit trousers and a white shirt that she tied at the end so it rested just above her naval. To add a finishing touch she put on the grey waist coat that belonged with the suit, opting to leave the jacket behind because she knew how manly she’d look in it.

“I don’t know,” breathed Hancock as he exhaled the fumes from his cigarette. “You still look like you.”

“That’s because you know me, the people of Bunker Hill have only met me twice and no one there has seen me without my sunglasses or bandana - I’m just another nameless face in a sea of nameless faces.”

She straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her white curly hair stared back at her. She was going to need a wig…her bald cap was back in her trunk but she could make do.

“One of your whores didn’t happen to leave a hair tie, did they John?”

“You jealous Sunshine?” he laughed as he went off to find one.

“So, who are ya wearing it for?” he asked when he returned to her, a small black band between his fingers.

“I told you I don’t know,” she began scooping her hair up in her hands and tying the band around the curls as best she could. “But there’s only so many people walking around the Commonwealth, I can’t take the risk that someone might recognise me. Deacon would never forgive me.”

“And you care about that do ya?” An invisible eyebrow shot up his forehead.

“I can’t have him bad-mouthing me to the Railroad now, can I?” 

“And you’re sure that’s it? I mean, after your little break-up with MacCready…”

“For crying out loud John, it was not a break up and as far as Deacon goes, there’s nothing to tell you. Evidently we’re just back to playing our stupid little game with each other. That’s it.”

“Sure, sure. But you let me know the second he manages to pants ya. I’ll have to ask him what sort of underwear you’re sportin’.” 

“You’ve already seen them, remember?”

“Yeah I know, but I bet you’ve got some even better ones.”

She cleared her throat. “I need to go see Kent. He said over the radio that he’s got something for the Shroud, plus he’s got a few of my wigs stashed away.”

“How many of those things do you have?”

“I could tell you John,” she stood on her toes to hug him and whispered in his ear. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

She kissed his cheek and sashayed out the door.

Her new boots were on her lap, a long blue wig on her head (the thing about Codsworth - the style was always the same, her original hair, but the colour was different) and she was deep in conversation when Irma opened the door and gestured Deacon inside.

“Who’s this?” Kent asked. The question didn’t surprise her, he rarely left the little room they were sat in.

“He’s the Mistress of Mystery to my Silver Shroud."

They shared a smile and a laugh that Deacon didn’t understand. He somewhat got the concept of the Silver Shroud, but if wasn’t really his cup of tea; he was definitely more of a Grognak man. He’d gone to Hubris Comics a few times to try and find a few issues but they were all gone. He suspected - considering the amount of different comics he’d seen her reading - Whisper collected them all already.

And some nut job had been running around pretending to be the Shroud - honestly, some people have too much times on their hands.

“Look,” she turned to him, slipped her hands in her boots and held them up so he could see the bases.

She was wearing different sunglasses now, the jumpsuit was gone and had been replaced with an outfit that made her look as though she had a perfectly normal nine-to-five office job. She looked different, but not really.

“It’s a pair of boots…much like the ones you already have.”

“No,” she smiled like a child at Christmas. “See.”

She clapped the sides of the boots together and a small blade poked out of the front of each boot.

“They belong to the Silver Shroud, but Kent says I can borrow them. Until the Shroud asks for them back of course.”

She lowered her sunglasses and winked at Kent and they both smiled.

Deacon was really confused now. 

_I must be missing something…_

“So…can I keep them?” she asked whilst already undoing her own boots. 

“Sure, but you’re only allowed to use them in an emergency, alright?” he chuckled.

_ Why on earth did she just ask me like I’m her father? Like she needs my permission? _

_ Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re getting old, old man. _

When the new boots were safely laced on her feet she stood up, tapped her toes together and the blades retracted.

She once had a pair like this, when she was eighteen…back when she participated in her first assassination. It wasn’t anyone big, not a President or anything like that. No diplomatic official. Just your everyday, run of the mill, homegrown terrorist.

Back home, people would judge her for her choice of career -it wasn’t really a choice, she’d been groomed for it her entire life - but people in the Commonwealth didn’t seem to judge anyone for trying to make a living, MacCready never looked at her any different. And no one else really knew what she was actually capable of…the sort of person she could be.

She was okay with Deacon seeing her as tough, someone not to be messed with, but she didn’t want him to see her like that. Though, he definitely had a little monster in him too…singlehandedly taking out an entire gang…what he did to Bullet’s corpse. 

There were so many things they needed to discuss, why were they still wasting time playing this pointless little game? 

“Do me a favour and don’t fall asleep in those things, I don’t want you kicking me and cutting my knees to shreds.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll just camp somewhere one of us will have to keep watch.”

That was probably a safer option anyway. 

“So, who’s this particular mark?”

“Ever heard of a man named AJ? Works out of Goodneighbor, sells chems to kids?”

Of course she had. She’d killed him or rather the Silver Shroud had. She was almost relieved that he had to ask, at least there was something (finally) that he didn’t know about her

“Yeah, but I thought he was dead?”

“He is, but his supplier is still alive so it’s only a matter of time before someone else moves in Goodneighbor and takes over.”

She should have brought the coat after all. 

“So, we’re meeting the supplier?”

“Not… _exactly_. This guy’s a bit lower on the totem pole but it’s a start.”

“What’s your story with him?”

“I, _we_ , work for a guy named Sully. Interested in teaming up with his boss, wanna make a deal. You know, that sorta thing.”

“What’s Sully’s chem of choice?”

“Psycho, and all it’s variations. We appeal to the raider crowd more than the civilian one. Their kingpin seems to have his fingers in all sorts of pies.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Whisper the minute they walked into Bunker Hill. Deacon couldn’t blame them really…Whisper looked great in everything. She could probably have walked in wearing the skin of a deathclaw and people would still look at her like they are now.

Like she was the sexiest thing in the world.

Even his mark, Froggy-Mc-Fuck-Face, was staring at her like he wanted to rip her clothes off. Like he’d said before, people were just drawn to her because the mark was up on his feet and walking towards them before Deacon even acknowledged him.

They shook hands like gentlemen, just here for business, nothing else. But his eyes were all over Whisper and his eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she turned on her heels with a smile. “Whose dick did I suck to get this job?”

She shook his hand enthusiastically, her nails scrapped against his palm as she moved away and she saw him shiver.

“I’m usually stuck behind a desk, you know, filing through tons of paperwork. There’s a lot of that in this business.”

Deacon was too impressed to talk, the way the words just rolled off her tongue. She was a natural. 

“I found some files that showed we were selling PsychoJet and Psychotats for the same price. And it costs more in supplies to make the former than it does the latter. I told the boss, and here we are.”

She smiled at him again, a slightly different one this time. Too sweet for words, she knew because it left him speechless. 

Whisper was taking point - on his mission. It wasn’t right, but he didn’t mind. She was doing just fine on her own and he was ready to step in at any point. If she needed him to.

They walked over to a far away bench, away from the crowd of vendors and traders.

He gestured for her to sit down, she didn’t and copied his gesture.

A few more seconds of playing this game and he eventually gave in with a groan.

“Now the question is, what does your boss want from us?” she asked, settling herself down next to him. Probably sitting a little closer than necessary.

_Why don’t you just sit on his lap?_

“Well, since you guys are well versed in everything Psycho, he wants you to help with his production of Overdrive. He’s willing to pay.”

“How much?” her hand ran gently through the blue hair of her wig, she couldn’t pull too hard. It wasn’t on that securely.

“Two-hundred caps for every twelve syringes made.”

Whisper shook her head and tutted.

“See, that’s where we’re going to have a problem,” she counted off the issues on her fingers as she spoke. “It takes one full dose of Psycho - that’ll hurt our own supply dearly. One bottle of Nuka Cola, and eventually they’re going to be a thing of the past - it’s not like they’re still in production.”

Deacon didn’t think anyone else but him had realised that.

“And it’s take two doses of acid per syringe. That’s going to take a lot of manpower, and people will expect to be paid well for such a dangerous job. So, unless you’re boss is going to give us the supplies or the men, I think we’re done here already.”

She went to stand up but the man was quick to grab her wrist.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” she said in a tone like she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Five hundred for every two crates you fill.”

She wondered just how high his boss had asked him to go, in case they put up a fight. She was ready to push his limit.

She gently wrapped her fingers around the arm of her sunglasses and turned to look at him. 

“Four hundred for every _single_ crate we produce. And, your boss supplies the acid. We’re not risking our men on something your boss wants,” she stated calmly, like she was in negotiations with a drug dealer…which she technically was. “We can flourish just fine on our own, we’ve been doing that already, it’s obvious your boss needs us. That’s our offer, take it or leave it.”

She waited for the man to reach a decision, it was obvious he was going to say yes. He couldn’t return to his boss with nothing.

“He’ll want something in good faith. So, he knows you’re not gonna stab him in the back.” 

“Have you ever been to Goodneighbor?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“That’s a shame…because I’m a little short on caps,” her finger glided shamelessly over the zip of the man’s jacket. “But I’m a good, good neighbour.” 

_No, she didn’t just do that!_ Magnolia would actually be proud. Deacon refused to cheer out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. A part of him also wanted to punch the guy.

The man quickly readjusted himself and cleared his throat.

“Right, okay. We’ll meet here again in a month?” he finally turned his attention to Deacon who responded with a single nod. 

He watched as the man walked out, his legs looking slightly awkward…he was probably sporting a massive erection. Whisper had that affect on men, especially when she took her sunglasses off - that were safely back on her face when he turned around.

She had a hand placed on the bench either side of her, her legs were crossed at the ankle, swinging in the gap, and she had a smug smile on her face. 

“Did I do well?” she asked innocently.

“Don’t look so smug,” he replied casually as he sat down on the bench. A safe distance away from her.

“I just wish Desdemona could have seen that. Maybe then she’d call me a real agent for once.” 

“Well, you got my approval, if that means something to ya.” 

“Considering you’re the boss? Yeah, I’d say it means a lot. But everyone still thinks of me as a recruit because she hasn’t stated otherwise.”

“Your name’s on the board. Believe me, that’s enough for all of them to think you’re part of the family.” 

“What now?” she turned her attention back to Deacon.

“Not sure to be honest, I’m not sitting here for a month waiting for him to come back, but I suppose we can rent a room.” 

“Just for tonight?” she gave a smile he couldn’t read. “Well, I just helped you out with your little ‘side project’ so you can front the caps. Say Blue sent you, it’d probably get you a discount.”

She laughed and gently hit him on the arm, in the same spot she always hit him, at least she’d moved to his other arm after seeing the bruises Glory’s punches had left.

“Okay, so they…”

He’d managed to get a room at a discounted rate, just like she said, and by the time he’d returned, Whisper wasn’t sat on the bench.

“Whisp?” he looked around the grounds, he couldn’t see her anywhere. Now he was starting to panic. 

Deacon edged closer to the bench and saw the midnight-blue hair on the floor just underneath the bench. He looked around again, she definitely wasn’t there. No one was, everyone had gone to sleep already. He couldn’t have lost her, not again. It’s not like she was wearing the jumpsuit that literally made her disappear.

“Whisper, where the fuck are you?”

He was gone less than ten minutes, she couldn’t have gone far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I love you all xx


	26. Battle Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper finds herself in trouble and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Battle Born - Five Finger Death Punch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyA1GL1touw))
> 
> I guess there’s a huge spoiler for Dunwich Borers, though it’s not exactly a quest but this is basically what happens…except for the whole getting kidnapped part.
> 
> I've taken liberties with Deacon's past because that's what so great about him not having one, I can literally just make shit up. So Deacon's got a bit of a Sherlock Holmes element to him in this and Whisper is very much Marvel's Black Widow.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like it.

_ Suit the action to the word, the word to the action. _

 

_“If you’re willing, I would like us to perform an experiment,” began the director. “Not the medical kind, there will be no needles.”_

_Not yet. She could see it on her face._

_“I would like you to come with me, to see the world outside of here.”_

_“Why, Ma’am?”_

_“We can teach you to control your gift.”_

_Gift. People kept calling it that, it wasn’t a gift at all._

_“But you need to see for yourself why it is important. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes Ma’am.”_

_“Good. We will meet tomorrow morning 8am.”_

_Tardiness wasn’t tolerated on campus, no matter how valid the excuse, so she was stood outside the Director’s office - thirteen years old - at eight exactly._

_“You will need these,” stated the Director as she stepped out of her office._

_She held out her hand to receive whatever she was about to give her. She couldn’t control the raise of her eyebrow in confusion._

_“Earplugs Ma’am?”_

_“Yes, you will soon find that people speak volumes when you can’t hear what they’re saying.”_

_“Actions speak louder than words, Ma’am.”_

_“Exactly. I must warn you, this will be difficult for you to take. You will most likely become overwhelmed but you must remember that you are not alone. I am right next to you.”_

_“Yes, Ma’am.”_

_The real world was different, more chaotic than inside the academy. The noise was deafening and she quickly put in the earplugs given to her. They moved towards a fountain and sat down for ten minutes before she truly wondered why she was there._

_She looked over at her superior, who simply mouthed the words ‘just watch’ and so she did._

_As time went by more people began to surround the fountain, some talking to each other, some talking on the phone._

_It started out small, a twitch of the shoulder or a hand through hair. But that just made her notice everything else, how the lady next to them was shamelessly flirting with the man she was speaking to, he rested his hand on the woman’s knee and she noticed the ring on his finger, the woman wasn’t wearing one._

_Beyond that was an older (what she was assuming) couple, the man towered above his wife, who flinched every time his hand came within a foot of her. Fear flashed across her face too quickly for anyone else to see it. The smile she was soon wearing didn’t reach her eyes, those were too busy screaming for someone to help her._

_There was a younger woman, mid twenties, to her right, who was speaking on the phone. She saw the words ‘I’m fine” creep out of her mouth, but nothing about her reflected that at all. She had heavy black circles around her eyes, pale to the point of pasty and looked extremely underweight. When she begun to wonder what had caused it her eyes scanned down the rest of her. She moved to hold her phone between her shoulder and her cheek as her hands went to pulling at the jumper she was wearing, stopping to rub it at the bend of her elbow. Chem-addict had been her first conclusion, then she noticed the way the woman was dressed. She looked smart, looked like she held a good job, she hardly looked like a chem user._

_Dying. And pretending she wasn’t._

_A piece of paper was thrusted at her and she peeled herself away from the dying woman to look at it._ **_F_** _reaked out_ **_I_** _nsecure_ **_N_** _eurotic_ **_E_** _motional._

_The longer they stayed, the more she saw, she realised why the Director had wanted her to experience the world in a controlled environment. Someday soon she would be sent on her first assignment and she would need to control herself, it was difficult not to run up to any of these people and scream the truth in their faces._

_She didn’t breakdown, she didn’t cry. She understood. Everybody has a reason to lie, everyone is protecting something. She was glad she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she wasn’t sure she could take the words that backed up the betrayal of their bodies._

_Words mean nothing._

 

* * * *

 

He was tracking her, or at least trying to, because it had been years - decades even - since he had to put this particular skill to use. The old man had taught him from a young age, taking him out as a kid to hunt rabbits. Working his way up to bigger game as he got older.

He followed the set of tracks that went away from Bunker Hill. There were three distinctive shoe prints, judging by the size of them they had to belong to men (plus there was no way three women could overpower Whisper - he wasn’t being sexiest, they just…couldn’t). One set was about the same size as his, nothing remotely distinctive about it, to the left of that was a print where the left sunk lower into the ground…so one of them had one leg longer than the other. It was definitely something he could watch out for. In-between the two printsthe dirt had lifted in a smooth clean line…where they were dragging her away. The third and finally footprints trailed a distance behind.

He stopped for a moment and thought. His fingers resting against his temple as he forced his mind back. Going back to every moment, remembering the people he hadn’t been paying attention to but as subconsciously absorbed.

Like something in a sci-fi novel a 3D image of Bunker Hill appeared in his hand. People and objects disappearing as he went through the list of what he already knew.

Male. That wiped out half the place already, Kay, Kessler, Meg, Deb and a handful of others disappeared.

Three of them. Two groups left. One group huddled in the distance, the other stood at the wall to the right of them. He focused on each of them, specifically at their legs. The first group, the one furthest away, were all around the same height, all a little too old to be in the business of kidnapping people.

He moved to the next group, his attention immediately falling on the biggest out of the three. His stance, the distance between his feet were similar to the prints that trailed behind, he was the enforcer. The one responsible for disabling her if she woke up and tried to run for it. The shorter of the three was the one with a shoe size similar to his and the last stood with a bend in his left leg, because it was longer than his right.

He scanned their faces, studied every scar and distinctive mark and continued to follow the trail. Five minutes most he’d been gone, and having to drag a woman with them was going to slow them down a bit. Hopefully he could get to her before anything really bad happened.

 

* * * *

 

Before she even opened her eyes she knew something wasn’t right, she felt queasy, disorientated and she could feel her chest beneath her chin. Her breathing was shallow, halted and her head was killing her. Something, or rather someone, had knocked out. She put aside the question of who when she felt something warm trickle down her forehead and she knew she was bleeding.

_How the hell did I get here?_

Just like the majority of her childhood, there was a gap in her memory, the last thing she remembered was being in Bunker Hill.

She opened her eyes with an agonised groan and stared out into a room she didn’t recognise. The brightness of the room blinded her and she was quick to realise she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses or bandana. For fuck sake, she seriously needed to start gluing them to her face.

And she didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that all of her weapons were gone too. And where was her jumpsuit? Why did she look like she was about to go work in an office downtown?

As her vision cleared so did her hearing and she could hear two voice, male, ten feet away from her on the other side of the door because as far as she could tell she was in the room on her own.

Her arms were forced behind the chair she was sat in, she tried to move just a minuscule amount and as she moved her wrists in their binds, the rope around her legs tightened. Whoever they were, whoever put her in this room, had used one long piece of rope to tie her to the chair.

_Amateurs._

This wasn’t her first rodeo, she’d been in this situation before, albeit it had been during the ‘safety’ of a training exercise but that was exactly why they did it, so she’d know what to do if it ever happened.

If she timed it right, chose her moment perfectly, she could get out and kill every mother-fucking bastard in the whole place.

She closed her eyes again and focused on the two voices on the other side of the door. They were deep in conversation,

“…so desperate to go down there anyway?” one voice asked.

“No idea, but the boss wants her down there. Everyone else has failed.”

“So what’s gonna make this one any different?”

“You’ve no idea,” she said to herself. Her voice was weak, she needed water but more importantly she needed to get out of this chair.

There was no verbal response from the other guy to the question but she’d heard enough. She’d been captured, how was another matter entirely, and they needed her for something. She really didn’t care what they needed from her, they were never going to get it.

She stared down at her feet, grateful that Deacon let her keep the shoes. This counted as an emergency right?

Speaking of Deacon…where the hell was he?

As soon as she asked the question another piece of her memory clicked in place. She wasn’t alone in Bunker Hill, Deacon had been there too. Until he walked away. He’d left her again and this time she really was in the shit, this time she had needed him to stay. He really did leave her when she was at her most vulnerable, even if he didn’t know it. She was going to have to re-evaluate their partnership when she got out of this.

If she ever got out of this.

She contorted her arms, to the point she thought her wrist was going to break, her fingers struggled to grip her skin and with one last push, she caught her left wrist in her right hand. She took a few deep breathes before turning to her shoulder and biting down hard onto the fabric of her shirt so she didn’t make too much noise.

She breathed hard one last time as she twisted her body and quickly pulled at her arm. She couldn’t control the pained groan that left her when her arm popped out of its socket. It was the only old injury she was glad never healed, it had its uses at times.

Her agonised moan, though muffled, musthad attracted the attention of the men outside because suddenly the door burst open and one of them walked in. She spat the fabric out of her mouth and looked down at the ground, acting as though she’d only just gained consciousness.

“Look who’s awake?” she slowly looked up at the new addition to the room.

He sounded young, a little older than her and she would have taken the time to look at his face if her focus wasn’t on his wrist. Big, bulky and fucking noticeable, that’s how she had described it once so was it any wonder she spotted it immediately? Her Pip-Boy was on the bastard’s wrist and it didn’t matter that he was wearing a full set of T-60 power armour, she was getting it back.

She let her head fall back and faked a groan. The man laughed and took a step towards her, the sound of his armour echoed around the room. He pulled at her hair painfully hard, forcing her to look him in the eye, and out her peripheral she saw the light swinging on the ceiling.

“Got any gum?” she asked, her voice still hoarse.

“What?” he laughed and released his grip on her. “Listen sweetheart, if you wanna put something in your mouth, I can think of something else to put in there”

“Thanks, but the gum will do.”

_I will rip your mother-fucking dick off if you try to put it anywhere near me._

His hand touched her face and she flinched away from him. He laughed at her fear and turned around. As soon as his back was turned she began to slowly pull at the rope with the one hand she could still feel and pushed her left wrist through. She heard the hiss of his armour and looked up to see him taking off his helmet.

It certainly made her job easier, though it was definitely a mistake on his part.

_Idiot._

He turned back around and without so much as a warning, grabbed her by the chin and stuffed a piece of gum, along with his finger, into her mouth. She resisted the urge to bite his finger off. As quick as he had violated her mouth, he removed his hand from her face and moved over to the chair near her.

She didn’t make it obvious but she watched as he scraped the chair along the floor, picked it up and placed it in front of her. She continued to chew the gum in her mouth as he sat down and watched her. After two hundred years, all food seemed to lose its original taste but she wasn’t chewing on it for enjoyment. Not this time.

They sat in silence, the only noise was the small pop that echoed off the walls every time she blew a bubble. She still had her hands behind the chair, one arm completely free whilst the other held onto the rope, ready to let it drop to the ground when she needed it to. The two of them didn’t take their eyes away from each other, both of them wondering what the other was going to do. Before it lost too much of its elasticity, she swirled the gum around her mouth and hung her head back. She let the gum hit the back of her throat and let her lungs fill with air. She exhaled with enough force for the gum to fly out her mouth and stick to the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

Practice makes perfect. Though she doubted she could do that again.

“That’s not very ladylike now is it?” he asked rhetorically as he looked up at the small piece of gum on the light.

She let her head drop forward.

_One._

She mumbled something under her breath. The raider got off his chair and walked over to her.

_Two._

“What did you say?”

She mumbled on purpose once more. He grabbed her by the chin and she was forced to look at him.

_Three._

“What did you say?” he repeated through gritted teeth. She moved her mouth and he leant down to put his ear near her face.

_Four._

“I said,” she spoke quietly, “you should have left your helmet on.”

_Five._

As she finished her sentence the light above them exploded and before the man could react she slipped the rope from around her wrist and got to her feet. She smashed her left shoulder against his armour and hissed when she felt her arm pop back into place.

“Thanks.”

She pushed him back, he stumbled for a moment, trying to follow the light of her hair. Before he could get a focus on her, she put her hands on his shoulders and swung herself above him, clicking her shoes together as she landed on his back. She held onto rim of his armour to support herself, using her other arm to force the man’s own arm behind his back and she slammed him into the wall.

“You little bitch!” he went to swing for her but she quickly ducked out of the way and smashed her fist against his temple.

She flipped herself backwards, used her arms to brace herself against the ground and with one burst of energy, she pushed herself back off the ground and brushed her foot against his face. He winced and cursed as she cut through his cheek. Whilst he was too busy tending to his face, she grabbed and pulled at the extension cord of her Pip-Boy and jumped onto his shoulders, wrapping the cord around his neck and pulling it taut as she did.

He chocked and struggled underneath her as she pulled even tighter, she could feel the breath getting caught in his throat and she ignored him as he tried to reach up and grab her, desperate to get her off him but she locked her legs tighter around him and they both crashed to the ground when she pulled too tight and he couldn’t keep them both up.

The cord went lax against his neck and she quickly scrambled to her feet before he could fight back. She jumped on top of him, the blades in her shoes pierced into his thighs and she locked him in place. She was small, didn’t look like much. That was always the point. She put her hands on his head, her thumbs squeezing his eyes. He screamed in agony as she pushed down harder, she ignored the squelch his eyes made under her grip.

After a lifetime sat on top of him, he gave one last scream before his eyes burst underneath her and his blood splattered over her face, she spat out the blood that landed in her mouth.

“This,” she grabbed his limp wrist and took hold of her Pip-Boy. He was still alive; barely. “This is mine.”

She unclasped it from his wrist and wrapped it back around her own. She rummaged through his pockets, taking the gun and knife he’d been too slow to use and grabbed anything she could. She’d find her own stuff later.

She stood up and went towards the door. Before opening it she turned back around to the body of the Raider and her face contorted into anger. She kicked him hard in the face, small pieces of brain matter painted the walls as she cut through his skull.

She had to get out of here.

Quietly she stepped out into the (thankfully) empty hallway. She was underground, that much was clear by the earthly walls around her, the ceiling was miles above her and there was nothing to her left or right. She began to hear hurried voices and quickly grabbed the miner’s helmet on the end table near her, put it on her head and tucked as much of her hair into it as she could. She stepped behind the construction light, the only sliver of darkness in the path, and waited.

Three raiders came into view, two of them heavily armoured whilst the other wore nothing but a t-shirt, a pair of dungarees and a construction hat. He was an easy kill - she’d save him for last.

She pulled at the plug and the light flickered before going out completely. The three raiders made a few noises of confusion and she stepped out from behind the light.

Find the weak spot. She came up behind one of them, there was a small snap when she flicked the switchblade open and, before the raider could react, she stabbed it into the small exposed area on his side and twisted. She held a hand over his mouth as he groaned and after a few seconds she felt him go limp, and she let him body fall to the ground with a soft thud.

“What was that?” whispered one voice.

“Where’s Kit?” the one voiced asked. “Quick, we need to get some light.”

She heard the tap of plastic and knew one of them was trying to ignite the light on his helmet.

“Hurry the fuck up man.”

“Give me a chance!”

By the time he finally got the light working he was alone and she was stood in front of him, staring at the ground.

“Wha-“

She looked up when she heard him reaching for a weapon.

“Hi,” she gave him a shit eating grin before quickly bringing her knee up and kicking him hard in the chest.

He flew through the air and fell to the ground a few feet away with bone crushing force.

“Where’s my stuff?” she asked through gritted teeth, lifting his back off the ground as she pulled him up by his t-shirt.

“The boss…” he whimpered, “he’s, he’s the one who took your stuff. I swear. Please don’t kill me,” he begged. He gave a sigh of relief when she let go of him.

He went to stand up but she quickly put a foot on his chest and kept him in place.

“I won’t,” she didn’t take her eyes off him as she picked up the deactivated mine that fell out of his pocket when he flew across the hallway.

Still not taking her eyes off him, she began to turn and twist it in her hands.

“What are you doing?!” he protested as she placed it on his chest near her foot.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” she suggested as she took her foot off him and walked away.

She was barely around the corner before she heard the mine go off.

The pathway was narrow and there wasn’t anywhere for her to hide in an attempt to sneak past the rest of the raiders she came across. a fact that secretly didn’t bother her, she would simply have to kill them all, it would just take her longer to get out. Against her better judgement to go up, towards what she guessed was the exit, she headed down further into the mine. The boss, whoever they were, was bound to be at the lowest point and, more than likely, would be surrounded by people. Plus, she refused to leave without what belonged to her.

On one of the raiders she’d found a decent rifle, not as good as hers but it would do. When she turned one corner she found the room opening up in front of her. Two hundred feet below her there were several raiders walking around. A make shift path had been carved into the wall and spiralled downwards.

She laid on the floor, the rifle in her hand and aimed it at the light furthest away from her. She took one deep breath and the sound of the rifle echoed through the place before the light shattered. The recoil was more than what she was used to and the gun pushed against her shoulder, she ignored the pain and quickly shot at two more lights before changing her position.

She hugged the wall as she made her way down, completely aware that the raiders were making their way up. Five, slowly followed a sixth. And they were on quite a narrow ledge. It certainly wasn’t going to be an impossible fight but it sure as hell was going to take a lot of effort on her part. Realising they already knew she was there, she threw the helmet down on the ground.

As they got close she picked up her speed and jumped over the gap, landing in the middle of the small group, knocking them away from each other and one of them fell off the edge before her feet hit the ground. Before they could completely register what had happened, she grabbed hold of one them, kicked her boot into his shin and blood spurted onto the ground when she pulled the blade out.

She used his body to shield her own as one, who was a little quicker on the uptake than the rest of them, took a shot at her. The body protecting her went limp as he was filled with bullets. She supported his crashing body long enough to position her gun over his shoulder and shoot at the offending raider, hitting her between the eyes.

Three down. Three to go.

The one who had been trailing behind had come rushing over and knocked her to the ground as he tackled her. He landed on top of her and as he tried to pry himself away she held the gun to his head.He froze in place because they both knew what was coming..

“Hasn’t anyone taught you stealing is wrong?” she asked and then pulled the trigger. His head exploded over her legs and she rolled his body off the edge as she tried to get to her feet.

Just as she got to her knees she was pulled back onto the ground as one of the last remaining raiders took hold of her hair and began to drag her down the path.

“Let’s just gut this bitch,” suggested the other raider.

“She’s still got a job to do. Isn’t that right?” she despised the grin on his face.

She was dragged a little further and as they came up to a small railing she kicked out her leg and tucked her foot underneath the bar. The raider who had hold of her hair faltered in his steps when she was suddenly resisting his movements. Whilst his first mistake was touching her hair in the first place, his second mistake was letting it go.

“Move your foot,” he commanded. She didn’t do as he asked. He pointed his gun at her face, cocking it as he did. “You’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

“So are you,” she dragged both her hands across the ground. And as he looked down at her, wondering what she was doing she chucked dirt in his face with her right hand, throwing a tiny metal screw into his gun with her left and when he stumbled back into the wall, she flipped herself over, kicking out her leg as she did, and the other raider fell on her ass.

She positioned herself behind the raider on the floor and held a knife to her throat. The other, when he had recomposed himself, pointed his gun at her again.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she suggested as she pressed the knife deeper against the woman’s throat and stared at the barrel of his gun, the small screw shining in what little light remained.

“You think I give a shit about her life?”

The woman underneath her knife scoffed in offence.

“No more than I do,” she pressed the knife even deeper into her throat, a teardrop of blood fell over the serrated blade. “But that’s not what I mean. You see it right?” she addressed the woman who was pressed against her chest.

It was clear neither of them knew what she was referring to.

“Quit playing games, you’re not getting outta here alive.”

“Neither are you,” she smiled. A sense of deja-vu washed over her.

She was teasing him, making him lose control on purpose and she saw the moment he’d had enough.

He switched from pointing the gun at her and pointed it at the raider in her arms, not even hesitating when he pulled the trigger. The barrel of his gun snapped at the slide stop and the resulting momentum forced the broken piece to fly backwards and lodge itself in his head.

“He was gonna shoot me!”

“I know,” she took the knife away from her throat but before the woman had a chance to relax she flipped the knife in her hand and stabbed it into the side of her throat, savagely dragging it across as it cut through her jugular. She pushed the woman’s body off her and slowly got to her feet.

She hadn’t had to fight that many people so close up for a good two centuries and the wound on her head was not helping. She moved slowly down the pathway, her trousers were tightening and constricting her as they absorbed the copious amounts of blood on her. She could only imagine the state she looked and was relatively glad that Deacon wasn’t with her, he didn’t really like up-close-and-personal fighting, he normally just hid in a bush somewhere waiting for her to do all the work herself.

She continued deeper into the mine and she was almost certain that she’d killed everyone in here already because she didn’t see another raider. She was at the bottom of the large chasm, facing two tunnels. She could hear a faint voice emanating from one of them and begun to follow it.

The voice grew louder the further in she travelled.

“Not another one! For fuck sake, go get that bitch we collected last night!” he commanded.

The leader. His death would be slower than anyone’s. No one stole from her.

The ceiling was lower in the tunnel and she jumped up to grab onto the pipe that travelled along it, ignoring the protests of her body.

_ Because it ended so well the last time you tried this move. _

She ignored the voice and steadied her breathing as the incoming footsteps echoed louder against the walls. She was hidden in the shadows as the raider came to the point she had just been stood. She dropped from the ceiling and fell onto his shoulders. They fell into the wall and she wrapped her thighs tighter, crushing his windpipe, as he struggled to get her off him.

She held onto his head and, despite his resistance underneath her, she turned it to the left before quickly turning it right at an angle and she felt his neck snap against her thigh. His body fell to the ground and she rolled forward off his back, landing on her feet before her face smashed against the ground.

Ten out of ten.

She tossed one gun she’d found and replaced it with the better one she found in his pocket, holding it up in front her as she closed in on the leader and silently prayed he was the last one left.

The tunnel opened up into a small room, her eyes immediately fell on the steamer trunk in the corner and then to the man who was rummaging through her belongings, and wearing X-01 Power Armour.

_Great._

She carefully grabbed the sledgehammer that leant against the wall and took a step back into the tunnel, quickly switched on the safety of the gun and put it in the waistband of her trousers. She held the sledgehammer in both her hands and snuck back into the room.

She manoeuvred past every obstacle, hiding behind every piece of furniture when she made the smallest noise and waited for him to turn his back to her once more. She stayed crouched down until she got close enough. She readjusted her grip on the ‘hammer and stood quietly to her feet.

The hammer was poised and ready in her hands as she stepped forward and using what strength she had left, she swung it back and smashed it against the fusion core in his back. She heard the glass crack and he groaned as he fell into the trunk. She watched as he tried to get up, but she’d killed the power to his armour and they both knew he had no choice but to exit.

She took a step back as the armour hissed and the moment he was almost completely out of it, she smashed the ‘hammer against his own back, letting it slip from her grip. The edge of the armour cut into his skin when he was slammed down against it. Whilst he was busy trying to gain composure she ran back towards the centre of the room, grabbed hold of the metal chain that hung from the wench on the ceiling and ran it to the end of it’s line as she ran back towards him.

She kicked herself off the ground, spinning in the air before she landed on his shoulders. She quickly wrapped the chain around his throat before he shook her off and she wrapped it around his arms twice before her feet hit the ground.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed as he went to lunge at her.

She pulled the chain and locked his arms together, he stumbled over his own feet and fell face first onto the ground. She quickly secured the chain under itself and, satisfied he couldn’t get free, begun to drag him to the centre of the room.

She ignored his protests, his desperate attempts to break free and only stopped once they were under the wench and, without letting go of the end of the chain, she stood on his chest. She barely moved when he coughed under her weight. She spotted Deliverer in his holster and reached down to grab it.

“Don’t touch my stuff,” she advised.

“What? Is this the part where you shoot me?” he struggled underneath her.

“No,” she shot him a small smile that was met with a look of confusion when she jumped off him. “I’m not going to shoot you.”

She grunted when she kicked the handle on the control panel, so hard that the handle reached the top and then snapped.

He was screaming and cursing at her as his body lifted off the ground. She walked over to the trunk, grabbed her pack, and anything else that looked useful, and ran for the exit. She ignored the cranking of the chain and then the gut-wrenching crunch as the Raider Leader got crushed between the wench and the ceiling.

Her relief was short lived when she turned a corner and found herself face to face with three feral ghouls. She pulled out the gun from her waistband.

“What the hell?” ferals seemed a bit misplaced in a mine controlled by raiders.

She spoke louder than intended and immediately the three of them ran towards her. Keeping her promise, she didn’t take a single shot until one of them took a swipe at her. She shot it in the chest and another stumbled over the fallen body, falling forward and crashing into her. Its head cracked against her ribcage and she heard the snap of its neck. She quickly stomped on its head before it got to his feet again whilst shooting at the remaining feral.

When she was finally alone, the discarded corpses around her, she sat on the ground, wincing and holding her side as her ribs screamed underneath her chest. She was shaking and trying to breathe through the pain when she saw the ripple of water on the ground. Leaning forward, too weak to stand up, she crawled towards it. She stopped at the edge and it sunk down into darkness.

Everything started to make sense, what those raiders expected her to do and why there were ferals near it. There was something buried down there and they’d been forcing prisoners to dive down and get it. Never one to disappoint, and because the curiosity was too much to handle, she began to unravel the knots of her shoelaces as she clicked her heels together and the small blades retreated back into her shoes. Carefully she leant forwards and tugged the boots off her feet

She leant forward over the watery tunnel and reached into her pack again to find the tub of Rad-X she knew she had somewhere. She turned on the light on her Pip-Boy and took a deep breath before letting her body drop into it. Her lungs strained in her chest the moment she fell into the radiated water. She closed her eyes and ignored the burning sensation of her skin, as she sunk to the bottom.

With her eyes still closed she felt at the walls until she met nothing but water in front of her. Taking the risk to open her eyes she could just make out the large underwater room she was stepping into, there was a small altar against the back wall and, bracing her feet against the wall, she pushed herself further into the room. As she moved along the altar she let the light of the Pip-Boy shine against it and she caught the glimmer of the knife just before she turned around.

As soon as she took hold of it she felt the energy coming from it. And she ignored the demonic voice in her head as she made her way back into the tunnel.

_One of us, one of us._

The hand that held the dagger came out of the water first and she didn’t let go of it whilst she lifted herself out of the water and sat on her knees, panting for breath. With her free hand she reached for her pack, opened it and pulled out a bottle of purified water. She poured it over herself and used her hand to rub it over her arms and chest.

_Ug-Qualtoth has returned._

She grabbed another bottle, still ignoring the voice in her head, and took a large sip. She swished it around her mouth a few times before spitting the water on the ground. She’d use RadAway when she was in a settlement.

She kept a tight grip of the blade, as though it was glued to her hand, as she picked her pack and herself off the ground and headed for the nearby door. Still praying that she was done fighting.

As soon as she stepped outside, even in the shade, she winced and held a hand over her eyes to block out the light. Putting her sunglasses over her eyes, she took one step forward and the body of a dead raider fell out of the sky and landed at her feet.

“What now?”

She heard the lift above her head spring to life and she stepped back into the alcove. She held Deliverer in her hand, pointed at the ground; ready to shoot. She waited until she heard it reach the ground and swung around the corner to be met with a gun in her face.

“Whisp?” spoke a familiar voice but she didn’t take her eyes off the barrel in front of her until it was lowered and Deacon came into view.

“Deac?” the light reflected off the white of his t-shirt. In that moment he looked like an angel. He’d come back for her.

She forgot about the pain her ribs when she lunged at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes fixated on the blade still in her hand.

“Saving you of course, or at least attempting to!” his voice was filled with joy as he tugged her closer to his chest.

“But you left me,” she dropped out his arms. “Why did you leave me?”

He’s not going to lie, that hurt a little. He’d just spent the night tracking her, with skill he doubted even she had.

“Don’t you remember?” he asked. “We were at Bunker Hill dealing with a mark, I walked away to get a room. I didn’t leave you Whisp.”

“How did I get here?” the hand holding the blade rubbed her head, Deacon’s eyes fell on it immediately.

“My guess is as good as yours,” his gaze didn’t move from it. “You disappeared by the time I came back.”

“An-” she noticed him looking at her hand and moved the blade behind her back, “And you tracked me all the way here?”

“What?” he finally looked up at her. “Of course I did! Did you really think I left you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the words came out before she could stop himself.

Deacon was about to respond but was cut off when Whisper suddenly stabbed the blade into the wall.

“Woah,” they both jumped back and stared at the weapon in the wall.

“Deac…”

“Yeah?” he turned to look at her, her gaze repeatedly switched between her hand and the wall before she looked at him.

“That wasn’t me,” the fear in her voice resonated in him.

They had two options, leave it and let someone else deal with it or take it and put it somewhere no one would find it. Like at the bottom of a watery pit of nothing. And after a conversation that lasted all of ten seconds, Deacon was reaching into Whisper’s pack to get an old t-shirt and passing it to her. She put her hand inside the t-shirt, braced another against the wall and took hold of the handle. She pushed against the wall as she pried the blade out of wall and let her t-shirt drape over it once it was released. She carefully wrapped the rest of the t-shirt around the blade and shoved it to the bottom of her pack.

They had a calm moment and Whisper couldn’t hear the voice in her head anymore, she looked up at Deacon and smiled. One he gladly reciprocated. He hadn’t left her, he’d come to save her. And even if he didn’t technically do it, it was still another person to add to the list of people she owed her life to.

“You’re hurt.”

Another head injury and Deacon wanted to punch himself for, once again, not being around when she got hurt. It explained the memory loss, but Hancock would have his balls if he found out she got injured on another mission of his.

“What? Oh,” her hand ghosted over the cut on her head, “I’m alright.”

“Famous last words.”

She tried to hide the shiver she felt when he touched her head. It hit her in the exact same spot it did when he touched her face in the Combat Zone. Sleeping with MacCready hadn’t worked, tit-for-tat had done nothing but amplify everything, there was no denying it anymore. She liked him.

“Why are you wet?”

She felt like she’d just died at that moment. Had he said that on purpose? 

She told him briefly about how she managed to acquire the blade in the first place.

“Like I told you before, you keep swimming around in water like that, your skin is going to fall off.”

“I rinsed myself off with purified water, my skin’s just fine,” she gestured down herself.

She herself was not fine but Deacon had to agree her skin was fine. _Really fucking fine_. Though looking at her glistening skin only brought his attention down to her trousers that were wet too, too crimson to be water.

_What the hell happened to her down there?_

“Can we go back to Goodneighbor now?” she pleaded.

He knew about Sanctuary, she just didn’t know that and it was almost like she was making a point of keeping him away from it.

They were walking far, far away from there in comfortable silence. He threw her a secret glance every now and then, just to check she was still there. His heart had dropped out of his chest when he came back and realised she wasn’t there. He followed any sign of her, of course he did, that’s all he’s ever done. She kept repeatedly pressing her finger against the wound, wincing as she did, and checking to see if she was still bleeding. She wasn’t, not really, but she kept pushing it too damn hard.

“Another head injury…” there was wince number seventeen. “John’s going to kill me.”

“At least I won’t have to carry you this time.”

She’d realised his slip about ten feet before he did, he was too busy living in the relief that she was okay and only stopped when he noticed she wasn’t next to him.

She’d suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed, especially from the source itself, was entirely different. Deacon really had saved her life, and even if she’d gotten herself out of this most recent predicament, he still came to rescue her.

“What’s up?”

“‘At least I won’t have to carry you this time,’” she whispered and Deacon’s mouth dropped.

_ Oh shit. _

“I was joking Whisp, chill out.”

“You followed me, you carried me to the gate…”

She wasn’t expecting him to respond, she knew he wouldn’t. 

“That’s why Dogmeat’s so comfortable around you…because you were there.”

“Or because I’m a very charismatic person,”

“You’re not as charming as you think you are.”

Whisper was stood firmly in place. Apparently they weren’t going anywhere until they discussed it and it was the last thing he wanted to do; he just wanted to sleep for the next fortnight.

“Yeah, I really am.”

“You’re lying.”

“As if you could actually tell Whisp.”

_Please don’t make me talk about this_. He was right, Hancock had sold him out. That was why she had spent so long in Goodneighbor, because Hancock was telling her everything the Mayor knew about him. After all, there wasn’t anything Hancock wouldn’t do for his precious Sunshine.

“I can and you are. You’ve lied to me from the start, telling me you’re in charge of the Railroad, that you actually got a sex change. Yes, I was playing along,” she added seeing his mouth drop in surprise.

“What about you? The Pip-Boy you ‘stole’, the fact that you’ve not actually said why you tracked down the Railroad in the first place. You’ve lied through your teeth since the moment you walked through the door.” There was no turning back now. “You turn in missions to the Railroad like it’s the most important thing in the world to you but I see you, always looking behind you. Yeah sure, we both pretend you’re just checking the perimeter but its like you’re remembering something else. Like you’ve got somewhere better to be.”

Whisper looked down in defeat, they both knew it was true and until this moment Deacon had kept it to himself, but now it was out and there was no taking it back. If she wouldn’t let him keep his secrets he wouldn’t let her keep any of hers.

“You’re right.” She wouldn’t say she it was somewhere ‘better’ but it was definitely somewhere she should be.

Come again? He’d never been right before. He resisted the urge to smile.

Probably not the right time.

Time to put aside her pride - like everyone had been telling her - and it was about time she told someone what really happened to her before, during, and after the Vault. Sure, MacCready would be the preferred choice, but Deacon was a liar who kept secrets for a living…if there was anyone she could trust with that sort of thing.

“I’m going to go to Diamond City.” The silent invitation hung in the air. “If you want to find me, if you really want to know the reason I came to the Railroad, that’s where I’ll be,” she ran off ahead of him and left him alone on the road.

She hadn’t exactly invited him, but she had technically. If he wanted to know something about Whisper, something real, then he had to choice but to go to Diamond City and he hadn’t been there for months. He wanted to run after her straightaway but one thing was taking precedence. As far as the Railroad knew they were doing a little recon, and he’d told Des they’d be back hours ago, and so to stop the boss from bitching and moaning, and to give Whisper a head start, he headed back in the direction of HQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter a while ago, have gone back over it several times to smooth it out but there was nothing else I wanted to add or change so love it or hate it I don’t really mind. This had to happen to pull their relationship in the direction I wanted it to go.
> 
> And, fuck me, I'm sorry it's so long. This is turning into a bloody novel.


	27. Heart's A Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an old world saying: be careful what you wish for. And Deacon's never one for being careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start off by saying angst is really hard to write. Especially important angst and this is super important. I could poke and prod at this thing all day but I fear that by trying to hard I'm just going to ruin it. So on that note, let's get this show on the road, shall we?
> 
>  
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Heart's A Mess - Gotye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)

_I am not bound to please thee with my answer._

 

_Operation Honeytrap_

_A part of her had been hoping they would have come up with a more unique name. It had to be the biggest file she’d even been handed. Apparently Nathaniel Ryan Finlay had been making quite the name for himself, and once she opened his file she could see why._

_At first glance, when she saw his photo, he looked like an innocent old man, but she of all people knew how deceiving appearances could be. It was in his eyes, the natural scowl that hadn’t come from old age, but rather from being ruthless._

_He was connected to every chem dealer in the United States, was suspected as being responsible for the deaths of most of them, and had known contacts living in China. That had been enough to scare the crap out of everyone and it was finally decided he needed to be put down._

_She was twenty-two by the time she’d been given the assignment, had learnt to control most of her instincts and use her skills to the best of her ability by then so she was confident that if anyone could succeed where so many had previously failed, it would be her._

_She scanned over the photos of the previous women Nathaniel had been seen with, evidently he had a type. Slim, big-breasted and long hair. Luckily, she already had most of that going for her. Her bosses had worked hard to make her everything they wanted, she didn’t resemble the little girl she’d once been._

_Her brown hair had been dyed black, her entire facial structure had been changed, her cheekbones were set higher, her nose made smaller and ‘cuter’. At sixteen they told her to start taking oestrogen tablets so her breasts grew ‘perfectly’. Evidently no one cared that they were screwing with her body whilst it was still busy growing._

_Then they didn’t like the colour of her eyes. It was one of their more ‘dangerous and experimental’ ideas, manipulating the green specs in her hazel eyes so eventually it took over. Apparently, hazel didn’t stand out enough._

_The make-up came later, once her surgery was complete and she’d all but healed. That particular change she actually liked, it cut hours out of her day, having not to waste time applying all that crap to her face._

_It was just hard to look in the mirror, not recognising the face that stared back at her._

_She used the perks of the job and flew to Boston in record time, only eleven hours, and she congratulated the pilot on breaking his own personal record. She hadn’t known it at the time, but he made quite the fuss once they landed._

_She was a little apprehensive, it wasn’t her first mission but it was certainly the first where she’d been completely alone and there was a lot of pressure of her to nail the son of a bitch because, so far, every other attempt at crippling his empire had failed._

_Her time protecting the Peabody’s was only a few years ago, Billy’s face was still fresh in her mind and the only thing that kept her sane was knowing he would be able to live a normal life._

_She was sat at the bar in Monsignor Plaza, slipping on yet another glass of whiskey, wearing a blue sequinned dress that left almost nothing to the imagination. In one of the function rooms there was a party, one she was invited to because it was where Nathaniel was known to hang out._

_He approached her first, like she knew he would. Every other woman was wearing understated black or grey dresses, she stood out from the crowd, just like she was supposed to. They flirted all evening, him being a lot less discreet than her, and she counted herself lucky that she knew what he was really like. On the outside he really did seem like a delicate, wonderful man that wouldn’t hurt a fly. He probably wouldn’t, unless that particular fly was trying to intrude in his business._

_“I’m surprised a woman as beautiful as you hasn’t been snatched up yet.”_

_“What can I say? I’ve never really found anyone who can satisfy me, I’m rather high-maintenance.”_

_“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”_

_I want to see you behind bars…or strapped to an electric chair._

_He’d allegedly been responsible for the death of over twenty people, and countless more if she factored in all those that died overdosing on his supply. She was about to (literally) lay herself down next to a murderer._

_She played it cool, made sure he knew she was hard to get, because simple men always wanted something they couldn’t have, and that evening she went back to her hotel alone. The front desk woke her up the next morning and she went down to the lobby to find a car waiting for her outside._

_She didn’t need to ask who had sent it, Nathaniel was the only person she’d told she was staying in that particular hotel, and, despite every nerve in her body telling her it was a bad idea, she got into the car and let the driver take her to Sanctuary._

_This is his base, she realised when she stepped out and she was actually proud of herself. Less than twenty-four hours and he was already inviting her into the belly of the beast. She figured it would be easy, straightforward, from there and that it would take her no time at all to bring him down._

_Two years later she was married to a man she hated and she was no closer to shutting him down than when she started. She’d even begun to think that her bosses had forgotten about her. Sure, Jacob was only across the bridge but Nora - the ignorant housewife - didn’t have a lot of reasons to visit a rundown Truck Stop, and Nathaniel never liked her going anywhere on her own._

_When he brought Shaun home she found herself wishing she’d just let him get her pregnant, that way the only person that would have suffered would have been her._

She knew he wouldn’t come immediately, it wasn’t exactly his style and he’d want her to think he didn’t feel like it was a big deal. It was why she walked away from him in the first place, to create some distance between them and to give him a chance to do whatever he wanted before coming to find her.

Maybe she should have started with something smaller, something not so life altering because the longer she waited, the harder it was to stay inside Diamond City. It wasn’t natural for her to stay in the same place (unless she was on a job) for a long amount of time, she honestly didn’t know how ‘normal’ people coped.

There hadn’t been a day since stepping out of the vault that she didn’t feel free but she just felt trapped. Because even now, at the chance to finally know something about her, Deacon was taking his time.

The longer she was stuck in Diamond City the longer she stuck to her routine. During the day she sat on the bench just after the stairs, her hands on her lap and waited. Her evenings were spent sitting atop Diamond City and looking up at the stars, occasionally putting the scope of her sniper rifle to check for enemies too close to the City, and to see if she could see him walking towards her. Her nights were spent staring up at the rotting ceiling of her room in the Dugout, Vadim had given it to her for free - for life - as recompense for what he’d put her through. She didn’t mind paying for it, she even offered to help out whilst she waited if he was going to insist upon it. He waved off every counter offer she made and she eventually gave in because if she had learnt one thing in her life it was that Russians were stubborn.

Sure Piper knew that she needed Valentine’s help to locate a missing child but the only person that knew who that child was to her was MacCready and from the moment she stepped inside the city walls she wondered why she wasn’t doing it with her best friend watching her back. But that would have required either going all the way to Sanctuary or sending him a letter.

Though, given how quickly Daisy and her caravans worked, MacCready would have received the letter and been by her side quicker than Deacon considering it had been four days and he still wasn’t anywhere to be found.

She half considered just going to Valentine without him - tell his stupid douchebag face that he took too long and missed out - but she knew she wouldn’t. For more than one reason.

“You know,” came Piper’s soft voice. She didn’t turn to face her, she simply moved her eyes to give her a glance of acknowledgement. Piper took the empty space on the bench beside her. “You’re really starting to freak people out.”

She didn’t say a word, her eyes were fixed to the entrance. To be honest she was surprised Piper had waited this long to speak to her, it must have taken a lot of self-control on her part not to question her the second she descended the stairs.

“Blue, who are you waiting for?” she asked softly, not at all invasive.

“I didn’t realise this was a professional visit.”

Not that it wasn’t painfully obvious that she was waiting for someone. Doing the same thing over and over again for four days straight, head always pointed towards the entrance…As Hancock said, any idiot can put two and two together.

“It’s not.” She heard the affectionate smile in her voice.

Warm steam filled her lungs and she looked down at the cup in front of her, her eyes following up the arm that was outstretched holding it and finally looked Piper in the eye. Her hands remained in her lap.

“Well, hello there,” beamed Piper.

She could hear footsteps behind her and quickly went back to scanning over the entrance.

“Are you here because you’ve come to see Nick?”

She nodded her head. There was no sense lying about that, Piper was the one that sent her in Valentine's direction in the first place. Piper still had hold of the cup under her nose.

“Are you scared?”

Silence fell between them. She exhaled loudly before giving in and taking hold of the hot coffee in front of her. Her mouth was as close to the rim as possible before she spoke again.

“Terrified.”

But not for the reasons she originally thought. It wasn't because she had to relive the entire day, after spending so long trying not to think about it. It wasn't because she had to finally say out loud where she came from, what brought her to the Commonwealth in the first place. Hell, it wasn't even because she had to talk about her failure to save Shaun (twice) and it was certainly not because she had to recount the murder of her husband. Above all that, the main reason she was terrified, was because she was about to say all those things in front of Deacon.

She had spent her time going over and over it since she walked away from him, after he’d just come to find her. She chose him, out of all the people she could have chose - MacCready, Hancock, even Daisy - even going against the idea of just going in alone.

But she didn’t want to be alone. She was constantly surrounded by people but they were nothing like her, the closest people like her in Commonwealth were ghouls, and even then they weren’t. Their bodies showed their two-hundred year journey, they had stories about how they survived, stories about losing loved-ones. She didn’t have that. Kids had to grow up quickly in the Commonwealth, never really getting the chance to live a ‘normal’ childhood, MacCready had told her as much when he talked about Little Lamplight, but still it sounded like it had been fun, that there were happy memories to reflect upon. She didn’t have that either.

So maybe, just maybe, she had done it because she hoped that a man who lied through his teeth to hide who he really was, above everyone else, would understand. After all, the events of her past had led to this exact moment. He was right, she did know things about him - more than he realised- and whilst she suspected he knew things about her, she’d never admitted anything out loud. She wanted him to hear it, the reason she came to the Railroad, how she got here.

Plus, it would be really nice if it made him awkward as hell and he felt bad for being such a dick.

When he finally did 'grace her with his presence' she was in her usual spot on the bench, her back as straight as ever and her hands in her lap. There was a change in the air, she felt it the second she heard footsteps descending the stairs. She stared out into nothing as she wondered if he’d intentionally picked this day to turn up.

She rarely looked at the date on her Pip-Boy anymore. At first it was because she was avoiding looking at the amount of days she was wasting and then it just became a habit, she only ever really got a glance at it when she looked periodically down at the time, Besides, she never really needed to what day it was anymore. They blended together after a while.

She rolled off her bed and headed outside, ready to start her routine; that had become more like a ritual. The streets glowed in all sorts of colours and her eyes looked up at the multicoloured lights that hung from every building, down to the small trees that were scattered across the walkways.

Christmas Day.

She’d only ever had one ’traditional’ family Christmas and that was during the one Christmas she spent with the Peabody’s. She never celebrated it before, or since; it was just another day. Now she’d forever associate it with Deacon walking down the stairs.

_ Well kids, Christmas is ruined. _

She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as she moved her hands away from her lap and grasped the edge of the bench. He’d come to her rescue. She owed him this.

And it was time she stopped putting it off. Six months…she was disgusted with herself and she despised herself even more when she hesitated to move.

Whisper acknowledged his presence by standing up and walking; he followed. Of course he bloody did. They walked in complete silence, she hadn’t even looked back at him, but he knew she knew he was there.

_ Merry Christmas you cunt. _

They stood in front of Valentine’s office, a dozen questions wanted to be asked but he kept his mouth closed. He noted how slowly she turned the handle, watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath before opening the door. Deacon had no idea why they were there but she'd essentially told him (without actually saying it) that if he wanted to know something about her he'd find her in Diamond City. He had spent hours wondering what it could possible be but the emotional bubble that surrounded Whisper made it pretty obvious that they weren’t there to find a lost dog.

“Ah there you are. Was startin’ to wonder if you were gonna show up.”

Deacon knew they’d met before. He’d been there when the great synth-detective made his entrance back into Diamond City.

“Yeah sorry. I’ve been a bit distracted lately.”

Deacon looked guiltily down at the floor and shuffled his feet.

“Well, if you’re finally ready. We’ll get started,” he gestured to the seat facing his desk. “Ellie, would you mind taking notes?”

Three people. I’m about to say this in front of three people. Not forgetting that she was also about to say it out loud to herself for the first time. She took the seat and, after a second of inner-turmoil, she slowly removed her hat and pulled her bandana away from her face.

“Back when you were rescuing me, you never told me why came to find me in the first place.”

She was sat with her back to him, he took refuge in the couch that was hidden in the shadows, and watched as her hand placed a pair of folded up sunglasses on the desk in front of her. He was in the middle of a shit-storm if Whisper was taking her sunglasses off, though evidently it was becoming easier for her to do that in front of him even if she never looked at him.

She closed her eyes at the sight of Nick and Ellie’s jaws dropping, had a moment of self-loathing, and opened them again..

She hated her face sometimes.

“Do you need my help doll?”

Valentine reached out a sympathetic hand for her to hold, she nodded silently without taking it.

Like the starting pistol at City Downs, she was off. Whisper spoke quickly, too quickly for him to be able to process anything she was saying. Even Valentine looked like he was going to short-circuit. He caught snippets here and there, Deacon was sure she mentioned the kid she’d only ever mention in Piper’s interview, he was also sure she mentioned the word vault. He couldn’t be sure, she was still talking and had yet to take a breath, he wasn’t sure who was going to break first, Whisper or Nick.

Deacon’s ears piped up when he heard the phrase Freedom Trail. Nick and Ellie were not surprised in the slightest, considering they both knew who he was and exactly what organisation he worked for. Whisper was still talking like her life depended on it and eventually, even Nick had to get her to slow down.

“I found the Rail-“

“Woah, woah, slow down doll,” interrupted Valentine and, finally, she took a much needed breath. “I’m willing to help ya, from the parts I could process it seems like you’ve gone through a lot. But I need you to start at the beginning.”

Nick sat back in his chair, his robotic fingers entwined loosely and he held two fingers over his mouth. His yellow eyes studied her.

“Okay,” she took a few deep breathes to ready herself.

_I can do this. I have to do this._

“Two-hundred and ten-point-five years ago I was on a mission to put an end to the most vicious gang in America. I was sent to gather information on its kingpin, Nathaniel. That man was my husband.”

Whisper was alive before the War… _Fucking knew it._

“Wait, didn’t you say your husband,” Ellie looked down at her notes. “‘Just brought a baby home one day’?”

“Yes,” she said it so straight faced and serious that they were both slightly taken aback for a moment, as if she found it completely normal and acceptable; she didn’t. “As you can imagine, he wasn’t a very nice man.”

_That’s an understatement._

His eyes were glued to the back of her and he watched as her shoulders move up and down and heard the sigh leave her mouth. She’d married a man she was meant to gather information on, because she had to? Or because she wanted to?

“That kid is who I’m trying to find, his name is Shaun. I went against orders to reunite him with his family. His mother was dead but there was still a chance his father was alive, Nathaniel had never intended to kill him, he wanted him to live with his grief; to suffer.”

Not a nice man indeed. How does a woman like Whisper get wrapped up with a man like that? Then again, who was he to judge? How he became a part of the Railroad was still a miracle. The place was definitely the closest thing he, Deacon, had to home.

Ellie shot her a sympathetic look and silently handed her a tissue. She took it, cursing herself. She would never get used to looking vulnerable in front of other people, it would always be a weakness for her.

“I had a plan, everything was set to go but that afternoon the bombs went off.”

_Failure._

She was never going to reunite him with his parents. But if Nick could give her some answers, maybe she could still save him.

“I didn’t think it through, I was just worried about Shaun’s safety. My husband had grabbed him first; if he hadn’t I would have killed him before we left the house.”

Ellie gasped at her confession.

Okay, so she definitely didn’t marry him because she wanted to. That was something at least. But there was something nipping away at the back of his brain, as if he had forgotten something.

“I’d read up on Vault-Tec but I had no idea what they’d do to us once we were inside,” she closed her eyes and took herself back to that day. “Human testing facilities that’s what vaults are. Vault 111 was chosen to freeze its habitant in cryogenic stasis.”

Warning signs flashed over his eyes, sirens went off in his ears.

Vault 111 - How the hell could he forget something like that. Kellogg. Vault 111. Something small wrapped in a blanket.

_Oh shiiit._

“There was some kind of malfunction and I woke up, at that exact moment and I watched as three people surrounded the pod that held Nathaniel. I watched, helpless, as a woman tried to take Shaun and a man in army fatigues shot my husband in the head.”

_Happy now?_ She tried to telepathically shoot the thought behind her at Deacon.

No, no, no. Army fatigues. Kellogg wore army fatigues. This wasn’t what he wanted, anything was better than hearing this. He’d always known there was a chance, but seriously, who could think of the odds of such a thing?

_Oh, destiny can go fuck itself._ Hadn’t he suffered enough?

“You were in a vault, more importantly you were underground. That’s a lot of security to hack just for one kid," pointed out Valentine and she almost smiled, knowing she'd made the right decision to go see him. She couldn't let herself smile completely, because she should have been sat there months ago.

“I thought the same thing too, they must have had a plan. They couldn’t just disappear, then I kept hearing stories about the Institute. Piper started it actually, she told me to come see you. That’s when Ellie,” she gave the receptionist a smile, “told us that you hadn’t check in for weeks. I walked past the sign for the Freedom Trail on my way into Park Street station.”

There was over a four month gap between Nick waltzing back into Diamond City and Whisper taking the Railroad. She had known about the Railroad that whole time? What the hell took her so long? Of course, he already knew what happened, he knew almost everything that happened to her since she’d left the vault but now he found himself wishing he didn’t know what happened before the vault.

“I got distracted by Minutemen stuff and other things,” she was not going to mention Billy’s name in front of Deacon. “Then I got too scared, I wasn’t ready to relive that moment and I just wanted to see if I could find answers on my own.”

“So, what made you come around?”

“Well, if you had let me finish,” she said with a lighthearted smile. “The Railroad, whilst nice to be a part of, are a tad slow in tracking down the Institute.”

So slow she’s not entirely sure they’re bothering.

_Hey!_ He shot a look at the back of her head and he knew damn well she felt it. _We’re…trying._

“It plays like a film in my head every night. Bald, early-to-mid fifties, scar over his left eye.”

Bald, Kellogg’s bald. He certainly wasn’t in his fifties (times that by about three and you might be a little closer). Left eye, Kellogg’s left eye has a scar. Was it really too much to ask the world to go easy on at least one persona of his?

“He calls me the back-up and then walks away. With Shaun.”

Nick leant forward with intent, his eyes widened before furrowing and his eyed pierced through her.

“Wait a minute, you didn’t by any chance hear the name Kellogg did you?”

The proverbial knife edge Deacon had been sat on finally stabbed him. Nick just had to say the name out loud, didn’t he.

“Is that who it was?” a mixture of surprise and anger in her voice. Probably on her face too, not that he wanted to look at her.

Deacon wanted the couch underneath to absorb him right there and then. Of all the dwellers in all the Vaults why did she have to be connected to Kellogg like this? Why did this particular woman join the Railroad? He knew he only had himself to blame, he’d wanted it, he wanted her to find the Railroad, doing anything short of running up to her and dragging her into HQ himself. He had been looking forward to her finally sharing something truthful with him, he just hadn’t expected it to have been this. Everything was too real, he knew more about the situation than she did and whilst normally he would find that fact satisfying, he was shitting himself. He was spending most of his time with this woman and now he had to carry around what was probably his newest biggest secret, if he told her what he knew she would probably lose hope and she would leave and/or kill him. That was the last thing he wanted.

“I don’t know, but I do know there aren’t many people that would go to that much trouble and your description fits.”

“But why would he want to take Shaun?”

That was a question they all had.

“He’s a mercenary; been known to work for the Institute and they’re pretty well known for taking people. He must have called you the back up because they assumed you were his biological mother.”

She’d reached the same conclusion too.

“Kellogg used to live here, but no one’s seen him for a while. Didn’t he have a little boy travelling with him at the time, Ellie?” he turned to his secretary.

“There’s no date in the file but yes, he was seen with a boy about ten years old.”

Deacon knew the date, well the year at least. It was one of the few times in his life he hated knowing something no one else did and it was unsettling and nauseating as always.

“That _has_ to be him.”

It was a shock to think he’d aged so soon, but she knew there was a chance, and she was finally one step closer to saving him, he was still just a kid. The only remorse she felt was that he’d never know his real parents. Maybe they could start a club. She’d been frozen for a whole decade before being released from her pod, that was a shock to hear too, and if that really was the case, why did her pod suddenly open after all that time? Outside intervention had been the cause the first time, so who did it this time? Her subconscious drifted back to the man sitting behind her, he’d been there she knew that, had he somehow, inadvertently got her out of there?

Deacon stayed a safe distance behind as they walked to Kellogg’s old apartment, his hips constantly pointed towards the exit. Whisper, whose sunglasses and bandana were back safe on her face, picked the door with ease and they stepped inside, she found several pieces of junk. A basic bed, a hotplate,cartons of cigarettes everywhere. A strange button under his desk…

_Wait_. A strange button under his desk? She pressed it and a false wall to her left opened up.

The secret room was littered with more cartons of cigarettes and empty beer bottles.

What sort of home was this for a kid? Even what Nathaniel could have provided for him would have been better than this. Being on the run with her was better than this. Death was better than this. Terror flooded her veins as she wondered what he had been thinking. Did he know he’d been kidnapped? Or did he think this Kellogg was his father? Ten years, ten years that kid had spent living with people he thought were family.

And what did the Institute want a kid for? She picked up a packet of San Francisco Sunlights and eyed the spent butts in the ashtray. She knew the answer because it was the same answer for her, to mould him into the person they needed him to be.

_Ten years old. I’ve still got time._

“I’ll need to get Dogmeat. I can bring him back here and see if he can get a scent from one of these.”

“Sounds like a plan doll. Listen, this isn’t really any of my business but if you want my help; just ask.”

“I will.”

Deacon could have been mistaken but he was sure she looked relieved, she thanked Valentine and they left. She walked out the door and he silently shuffled behind.

Well, it was safe to say she got what she wanted. Finally, out loud, she got to say what really happened, Valentine had given her information she needed and Dogmeat would be able to track him, and it’d be easy enough to track him from the Vault. But that would mean travelling there, with Deacon, and what was said in Valentine’s office was one thing but taking Deacon to the one place they both knew he’d been was another. Because evidently, they were travelling together again. On the bright side, he looked awkward as shit so she definitely got what she wanted there.

Deacon was at least a foot behind her, desperate to look at anything other than the back of her head, His instinct was telling him to let her gain more distance but, like they’d been doing a lot lately, his feet betrayed him and he obediently followed. Thirty yards ahead of her Deacon saw Piper bend down to talk to her sister and next thing Nat was running towards them, her arms outstretched as she got closer. Nat looked awkward as she caught Whisper in a hug.

“Did your sister tell you to do that?” she asked, her arms pinned at her sides by the small arms wrapped awkwardly around her.

“Yeah,” she admitted as she peeled away from her.

“Well you can tell her I’m fine,” she said flatly, a little deflated.

It was a lie and the truth all at the same time, the key was realising what definition of ‘fine’ she meant. Whisper was the last thing from okay, and he was right behind her.

“Can you take me to a vault now?”

Nat was becoming too much like Piper in her opinion.

She needed to get back to Sanctuary.

Then again…Vault 81 wasn’t that far away from Diamond City, they’d only be there for a few hours, and she did promise Nat she would take her to one. Plus, Vault 81 were expecting her and Deacon to return with their ‘lost sister’ any day now, it was lucky he was with her really. It only made sense to do it whilst they were all together.

“If Piper says it’s cool? You’re on Nat, but I’ve got to give you a back story, vault 81 already know about you,” her eyes lit up at the words, “but your sister isn’t going to be very happy.”

“Oh this is gonna be so cool!”

She noted the look of confusion on Deacon’s face, with just a hint of surprise mixed in, before it disappeared behind his sunglasses and went back to looking as awkward as before.

“Might as well get it over with, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d either subconsciously timed it perfectly or it was coincidence, but when I did ‘Getting A Clue’ with this particular character I entered Diamond City, with Deacon, on Christmas Day (nice touch Bethesda) and I’ve been stuck on it every since. Hence why it’s taken her so long to talk to Valentine, plus it’s really important that Deacon is there to hear it and I had to give them some sort of relationship before she took him there - it’s not exactly something she could say in front of a complete stranger now is it?
> 
> There's probably still loads of mistakes in this but I've read it over and over (and over) again and hesitated to press the 'post' button. But there's no taking it back now. As always, let me know what you think XD


	28. Heaven Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper, Nat, Whisper and Deacon make their way inside Vault 81.
> 
> Naturally, nothing goes smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd give writing from Piper's POV a shot. This is another angsty chapter, the next few are going to be like that because I have to get used to writing it.
> 
> Curie finally makes an appearance =D
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Heaven Knows - The Pretty Reckless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHBxJCq99jA))
> 
> (I went through about twenty different songs, trying to find the perfect one and although this song doesn't quite match up to the chapter, it was what I was listening to when the idea popped into my head)

_ So foul and fair a day I have not seen. _

 

It was at times like this that the question of right or wrong appeared. Deacon was certainly in two minds. On the one hand, they should really have been heading to Sanctuary to get Dogmeat so they could track down Kellogg. On the other, tactically speaking, going to Vault 81 made sense. Nat and Piper were there, and who knew when the four of them would be together again.

Plus, he could really use the break because everything was a little too _real_ for him right now and having other people around for Whisper to focus on was a relief. Not forgetting that he’d been dragged into the charade way before it started and more questions would be raised if he wasn’t there. 

So, once again, he didn’t run.

“She has to pretend to be your _what_?” Piper’s eyes darted from her to Deacon and back again.

“Their sister,” smiled Nat, arms clasped behind her back rocking on the balls of her feet. She did like to torture her sister.

“It’s not like we planned this Piper, I had to get in there so they could fix my Pip-Boy and it was the first thing I thought of,” she explained.

“And what am I supposed to be in this scenario?”

“Exactly what you are.” She smiled encouragingly. She already knew they were all going, between her and Nat, Piper couldn’t refuse, and she doubted Piper had ever been inside a Vault before. The opportunity was too good for her to pass up.

“Fine.” She groaned in defeat. “I suppose we’ll only be there for a few hours.”

Deacon was a big believer in jinxing a situation, always thought it best not to get hopes up too high - that way no one was disappointed. He one-hundred percent blamed Piper for it because a few hours past about six hours ago. 

Shit hit the fan the second they walked through and a guard spoke to her.

“Are you here about Austin?” he enquired.

Deacon recognised the name, but he wasn’t sure which one of these vaulties it belonged to. The last time they came here he was more focused on the sad woman next to him. The woman he almost bumped into when she suddenly stopped.

“What about Austin?” judging by the level of concern in her voice, Whisper knew who he was.

“He’s been in the infirmary for three days now, Dr Forsythe-”

Whisper was gone before the guard even finished his sentence. Piper and he shared a look before she shrugged and they followed slowly behind her. Passersby must have known what they were doing and silently pointed them in the direction she’d gone.

“Erin?” She spotted the small girl standing outside the infirmary, staring inside through the window. She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and looked in the same direction. Austin laid on one of the beds, pale, almost lifeless.

“Y-you came,” she smiled weakly. “He talks about you all the time. You should go in, I mean I don’t think he’s awake but I like to think he’ll know you’re there, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” she squeezed Erin’s shoulder before opening the door.

Priscilla - Austin’s grandmother - Dr. Forsythe and a young man she didn’t recognise were stood in a circle having an argument they’d probably had over and over again.

“Priscilla?”

The woman turned to her and the sadness and worry written on Priscilla’s face broke her heart. Austin had told her in the beginning that she wasn’t really his grandmother, but she took him when he lost his parents. She showed everything a parent would when their child was sick.

She could never help herself, especially when it came to kids.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, that was the old saying. He should have known a visit to Vault 81 wouldn’t go as simple as it was meant to. Nothing ever did where Whisper was concerned, this happened too many times for it to be coincidence. 

In that moment he knew he was being punished. He wasn’t allowed to take a break, he wasn’t allowed to have fun. He was meant to suffer, as per usual.

By the time the three of them reached the infirmary Whisper was already on her way down to the reactor room. Deacon and Piper had enough sense between them to leave Nat outside with the young girl who was about the same age.

Judging by the look on the two people’s faces and the sick boy in the corner, some serious shit was going down.

“One of our residents, Bobby De Luca,” Priscilla scoffed at the name. “has evidently been using a secret room by the reactor to store his chems. Austin followed him and got bitten by a mole rat.”

“Uh, doc? I hate to break it to you but mole rats don’t cause that,” said a brash Piper whilst pointing to the sick boy in the corner of the room.

“We know, that’s why she’s gone with Bobby to investigate,” explained Dr. Forsythe.

“Your sister is a very brave woman,” Priscilla smiled gratefully at him.

“I know.” _She’s also a damn martyr sometimes._

Bobby returned, alone, to tell them where she had gone. And to say Deacon was unhappy was an understatement.

She was going to get herself killed, he should have gone with her, she should have waited. He paced up and down whilst, for three of the longest hours of his life, he, Piper and the rest of them waited.

“You only have one dose?” she asked the Miss Handy. Of all the things she expected to find down here…

“That is correct. There used to be more, but they all expired. Sadly, the organic compounds necessary to make more have all deteriorated.”

One cure, no chance to creating another one.

_I guess this is it then._

It was okay, she knew her time was coming eventually, she’d managed to escape it for two centuries. It was just her time, that was all, and for her there was no better way to go, in the knowledge that she saved Austin.

She wasn’t scared, just curious as to where she would end up. Her and God weren’t on speaking terms, though she knew it would be very one sided if they were, but if she had been doing the right thing (and she liked to think she was) would God welcome her? Or would she be sent down below, to live with all the people she’d killed.

“Would you like me to administer it now?”

“No,” she coughed, she could feel her chest getting tight. “I-I need you to come with me.”

“Oui madame.”

She had no idea how far underground they really were, the twists and turns of the caved in section of the Vault didn’t help. Neither did the foul smell in the air, and the dozens of mole rats that infested the place.

Somewhere behind her she could hear Curie talking, she was too busy focusing on her breathing to pay attention.

In and out. In and out. She could hear the rasping of her breaths, feel her lungs stretch painfully in her chest and she was sweating underneath her jumpsuit. Her entire life seemed to pass before her eyes by the time the elevator pinged. It was getting even harder to breath, beads of sweat were running down her face, and she was leaning on the door when it opened. Her reactions had begun to slow down and she was lucky a guard caught her before she smashed to the ground.

A commotion outside brought all of their attention to the window. Piper’s eyes fell on her young sister, just on the other side of the glass, and watched as she bound up the stairs before running back down to shout ‘she’s back’ through the window.

The wash of relief Deacon felt was short lived, like the smallest yet fastest raincloud ever, when three people rushed into the room, two of them holding Whisper up between them, followed by a Miss Nanny.

Whisper seemed to have a knack for picking up strays in the weirdest places.

She pushed the men off her and took a step forward. With a few more frail, unsure steps forward she lifted her hand, a syringe laid out in her palm.

Strong and stubborn - two qualities that could literally kill someone. Deacon knew the second she stood on her own two feet that she’d used all her energy just to get the guards off her. 

“I got it,” her voice was weak and even before her foot faltered, Deacon was behind her, catching her as she fell.

_Well, this feels familiar._ At least he caught her this time.

Deacon carried her to the gurney Forsythe was already pointing to and placed her gently down upon it. 

“No tears in her jumpsuit, and I can’t see any blood anywhere,” began Dr. Forsythe. 

Deacon wasn’t paying attention to anything he was saying, his attention was solely on the dying woman laying in front of him because that’s what was happening, Whisper was dying and everyone knew it.

“Hey, Whisper,” he spoke softly into her ear, ignoring the doctor that probed her.

She groaned in response, too tired to speak.

Forsythe had taken off her sunglasses and bandana to check her temperature, she was sweating like crazy and he resisted the urge to hold her when he noticed she was shivering. He didn’t think it possible, but she looked even paler than normal. 

“Remember when we were trying to find out if I was a synth?”

Whisper couldn’t die now, they still had a lot to talk about. There were things she didn’t know…things he was eventually going to have to tell her, but he didn’t want to tell her like this. He needed to give her a reason to get better, so she could tell him he was a liar to his face. Again.

His voice was a soft echo in her mind and she wandered back to the day they were in Boston Library, the day everything changed.

“Yeah,” she rasped, turning her head, just an inch, to acknowledge him but her eyes stayed shut. 

She was in serious pain, dying, and he knew she’d refuse to let them use the syringe on anyone but Austin.

_Too stubborn for her own good._

“Well, you don’t know how right you were.” He breathed. “I’m a synth.”

She struggled to open her eyes, her eyelids flickered heavily a few times before she gave up.

“Really?” the strain of her voice was killing him. She probably knew he wasn’t, if her and Glory’s friendship spanned as far as he suspected than Glory would have told her _all_ of his lies. Well, at least the lies she knew about.

“Yeah, I’ve known for years now, it’s why Desdemona’s so protective of me. If you get out of this, I’ll even give you my recall code. Deal?” he raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses.

“Deal,” she coughed and rolled onto her back to accommodate the doctor still checking her over.

“There’s nothing to indicate you’ve been infected, you shouldn’t be showing any symptoms at all.”

“Curie,” she called quietly, turning on her other side, away from Deacon, and the Miss Nanny floated towards her.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, her body involuntarily scrunched up in the foetal position.

“Oui madame?”

“Tell them.” She couldn’t do it herself, she didn’t have the strength and they were running out of time, Austin had already been suffering for three days. Forsythe had stopped examining her and his attention was fully on the Miss Handy she found stuck in the hidden part of Vault 81.

The whole thing was just a blur, she could feel herself getting weaker the further she travelled, the air was getting thicker and glowing mole rats came out of every hole possible but the only thing she could think about was Austin. Even now, knowing full well she was going to die in a matter of hours.

Why were they concentrating on her? Austin was on the bed opposite and she used what little strength she had to turn back around to look at him. He looked the same; grey, pasty, unresponsive - he didn’t have long. What on earth were they waiting for?

“Without going into too many details, Vault 81 was used to test the effects of mole rat diseases on mankind, it is a pathogen like any other, absorbed through the skin.”

_Shit_.

Whisper was fucked the second she stepped foot inside, maybe if she had been wearing a hazmat suit instead of that bloody jumpsuit this wouldn’t have happened.

It wasn’t fair. Why did his punishments always end with someone he cared about dying? No matter how many times he wished to trade places. Being alive was his punishment, being alive and alone.

“How much time do we have?” asked a shaking Piper.

He and Piper never had that sort of relationship, but in that moment he wanted to reach over and hug her because together they were going to watch their friend die. Except she was more than a friend, he knew that from the moment he saw her, she was everything the Commonwealth needed - and him too.

“Its hard to say but you must use it on the boy immediately, she told me it was important.”

_No matter what happens Curie, that cure has to go to Austin._

Deacon’s gaze followed Curie as she turned in the air and looked down at Whisper.

“You heard her, give that cure to Austin!” begged Priscilla.

“Hold on there Doc,” Deacon stopped the man in his tracks as he made his way to Austin, syringe in hand. 

Whisper was probably going to kill him for it, but he had to try.

“There’s no way I’m leaving her to die.”

Piper was quick to note that he used the singular instead of the plural, she scowled at the idea of being left out. _I knew her first_. But then she also noted the passion in his voice, she’d never seen Deacon so determined before. And all of it was because of Blue. 

“Is there a way to split that thing up, so they can both live?”

He watched the doctor’s eyebrows furrow, he looked down at the syringe and then returned his gaze with a nod of his head. Piper loved that.

Dr. Forsythe was explaining what he planned to do in order to make such a thing possible. Out of his peripheral, Deacon saw Whisper sit up on her elbows and look around the room. He jumped out of his skin when she suddenly shouted his name, everyone did. A small part of him was also smug that, above everyone else’s, it was his name she yelled. 

She spoke louder than necessary, given the way they all looked at her and the way he came rushing to her side. She tried her best to lower her tone when she spoke again but it was hard when she couldn’t tell how loud she was being.

“I-I can’t hear anything.” 

It was like a radio stuck between two stations, she heard nothing but static and a few seconds later; silence.

“Nothing?” he replied instinctively, immediately rolling his eyes at himself. 

“Nothing.”

_Great, so the woman can read lips too. Seriously, is there anything you can’t do?_

He was desperately trying not to panic, or at least not let it show. Whilst Whisper had been playing superwoman, Dr Forsythe had taken him and Piper through the symptoms Austin had shown before falling into a coma. Lose of hearing came second, right after loss of strength and right before having trouble breathing. 

Deacon leant away from her and when he returned she moved her head to see a notepad on his lap; a pencil in his hand. He held up the notepad for her to read.

_I’m gonna get you out of this._

She doubted there was anything he could do but she appreciated that he was trying to help, and he didn’t look so awkward now, just _really_ concerned and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

_He said ‘I’m’…’I’m gonna get you out of this’_

“Austin…he hasn’t got long,” she lazily gestured over to him, too weak to move more than she had to, her body was trying to resist the urge to shut down. “You need to give him the serum now.”

_We are_. 

Deacon moved his head and she followed it to see Jacob walking towards Austin, tapping the glass of the syringe in his hand.

“That-that’s not the same one,” she protested, trying desperately to get up but her body was betraying her.

Deacon held the notepad to her eyes again.

_Trust me._

He was right, Deacon wouldn’t let anything happen to Austin.

He quickly wrote something else before showing it to her.

_Please don’t hit me._

Before she had time to question him there was a sudden stabbing pain in her arm and she turned to see Priscilla injecting her with a needle.

“That’s too much,” she protested, still not hearing it, trying to pull away but the old woman was stronger than she looked, and Deacon was helping keep her in place with one very strong hold on her wrist. She loved and hated it all at the same time. 

Austin was young, his immune system was weak (especially living in a Vault his entire life), he needed more than her. Austin needed the whole thing really but Deacon was a real bastard sometimes.

“I hate you,” she lazily turned her head to look at Deacon, who just gave her the smuggest smirk she’d ever seen. 

_That’s right, I’m going to save your life so you don’t hate me so much when I destroy it._

Finding Shaun had been the most important thing to her from the beginning, sure she got distracted along the way but the fact that she hadn’t given up even after two-hundred years proved how determined she could really be. She just didn’t know she wasn’t looking for a kid anymore.

She felt the effects immediately but tried to fight them off, she had to make sure Austin would be okay. She turned her head even further, black spots appearing in her vision but she ignored them, and watched as slowly, more colour appeared on the small child. He wasn’t awake, not yet, but she knew she’d be asleep soon and she knew he’d be up and running around by the time she woke up.

“You’re an ass,” she wasn’t sure if the words even came out of her mouth as she succumbed to the drugs in her system and fell asleep.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Piper broke the tension after a large exhale.

Deacon breathed a laugh in agreement but didn’t take his eyes off a sleeping Whisper. Without any trace of shame, and guilt playing its part, he took hold of her closest hand and stroked his thumb across her knuckles.

She was cold and warm at the same time, beads of sweat playing their part to keep her cool but her skin was boiling.

She was going to wake up, she was going to be just fine, and he was going to tell her the truth the second he knew she was okay to deal with it.

Piper, seeing this gesture and for once in her life not intruding, turned her attention to the woman watching over her grandson.

“Dr. Penske?” the woman looked up at her with sad, hopeful eyes. “I think I should take my sister to get something to eat, would you like to come with us?”

She looked at Austin for a moment, afraid to leave his side, but at least now she knew he would be okay.

“S-sure,” she smiled.

Piper opened the door for her to step through and gave one glance back at Deacon. Blue’s hand was still in his, his thumb still stroking it and he was staring at her like she was the only thing in the room. In that moment Piper knew there was more to their partnership than anyone, probably even them, thought possible and she, for the life of her, hoped Blue knew what she was letting herself in for - Deacon too for that matter.

He woke up before his eyes opened at the feel of something moving in his hand. He groaned and instinctively squeezed back. He opened his eyes and smiled at the hand in his. He moved his head to the side to see Whisper waking up, sooner than predicted.

“Hey kiddo.”

“I,” she groaned as she rubbed her eyes and sat up, “hate you every time you call me that.”

_Good news, she can hear again._

She looked confused as she looked around the room. She looked over to the empty bed, he saw her face sink before erupting into a small smile. Austin had woken up a few hours ago, coming to not that long after Whisper slipped away. His grandmother took him home almost immediately, despite Dr. Forsythe’s objections.

You’d think it would be easier, seeing them for a second time, but her eyes don’t penetrate his soul any less than they did before. He was fighting a losing battle, he knew he had to tell her before she found out another way.

“Deacon, why are you here?”

He’s not going to lie, that hurt a little, but he was trying to blame the chems in her system.

“I mean, I’m not exactly surprised my subconscious thought of you, I’m just a little surprised it put sunglasses on your face, always thought I had more imagination than that. Especially _now_.”

_Bad news, she thinks she’s dead. Though, she did say she wasn’t surprised to see me._

“You’re not dead,” he reassured her.

“So this is just a dream, then? _Oh_ , that’s good. Good,” her voice trailed off and Deacon noted how disappointed she sounded. He quickly ignored it.

Whisper thought she was dreaming, maybe now was the perfect time to bring up his recent discovery.

“You know, Glory thinks we’re fucking,”

Deacon didn’t know where it hit him more, in the throat because his words were suddenly lost or his stomach, which reacted violently to the mental image of fucking her. He didn’t exactly have to think hard.

_Completely…chem induced._ She had been injected with enough med-x and other chems to put down a Deathclaw, he reminded himself and cleared away the lump in his throat.

“I’ve got a habit of dreaming about you. Have you ever dreamt about me?”

“Yes.”

That was probably the first honest thing he’d told her about himself.

“Now, are you saying that as my subconscious or is that something Deacon would actually admit to?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“So, when Deacon was dreaming about me, what was he dreaming about?”

“The exact same thing as you.”

“I really doubt Deacon was dreaming about licking me out on my mattress.”

His grip tightened the arm on the chair and his crossed his legs tightly at the ankle. 

“No, but he’s dreamt about fucking you in the middle of that alleyway you stayed together in once.”

He wasn’t quite sure why he was opening up about this particular event, he was just hoping that she wouldn’t remember it. Deep down he knew she would, Whisper never forgot a thing.

“Is that why he was so weird with me after?”

She actually thought she was talking to her subconscious and a part of Deacon was proud that he was pulling it off, though he knew the chems in her system were playing their part too.

“He can’t have, I mean it’s quite obvious we’re _mildly_ attracted to each other but that’s not what Deacon and I are.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Of course Piper had chosen that exact moment to come in.

“Are you sure you’re really just bald?” she asked, a lazy arm reaching out to put her hand on his head.

He obliged and let her ran her hand over his head once before taking it away, putting it back in his own and on her lap. He looked down at it when she squeezed.

Whisper must have felt her come through the door, even if she couldn’t register it. _Christ, what was in that syringe_?

“We’ve had this conversation before…” he smiled.

“Yeah, I know, but you’ve lied to me _a lot_ ,” he liked the smile on her face then.

“Hello, pot?” Deacon put his thumb to his ear, stretching his little finger to his mouth to form a pretend phone, “this is kettle, you’re black,” he finished by passing his hand to her.

She laughed and batted it away. He had to admit, the laugh Whisper had when high off her face was beautiful. Like everything else about her.

“Do you want to know something no one else does?” she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

_I already do_. But it’s not like she could tell him anything worse. She was clearly oblivious to the presence of the other two people in the room. 

“Have you heard on the radio that the Silver Shroud is back in Goodneighbor?”

He nodded. Yes, he was very aware that some nut job was running around pretending to be a superhero.

She lowered her voice to a whisper and gestured for him to come closer.

“Death has come for you…and I am its Shroud,” she said in the exact voice he heard on the radio. She stretched her neck to kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Deacon’s jaw dropped at her confession, and the tingling on his cheek. _No freaking way._ He didn’t even think Whisper was _that_ childish, though far be it from him to judge someone running around pretending to be someone else.

“I won’t,” he promised. 

Of all the things a woman like her could do in her spare time…

_But I bet that outfit looks real good on her_.

_Stop_. He was allowed to indulge her, but he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it and he certainly wasn’t allowed to use the opportunity to his advantage. He was not allowed to be happy at all.

She fell back asleep, Piper took the opportunity to check in on her sister and Deacon stayed exactly where he had been the whole time. By her side, holding her hand and waiting for her to wake up.

She did wake up, when he was asleep and she nudged him until he woke up.

“You know, it’s really rude to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation.”

She was a fine one to talk.

“And I haven’t given my answer yet.”

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and thanked his sunglasses.

“Deacon and I are…” she trailed off before sighing. “The truth is, I don’t know what we are. There’s stuff we know about each other but will never admit to.”

“If he were here, what would you want to ask him?”

“Where to even start? Was he there when I left the vault, did he really follow me all the way to Diamond City? Is he the reason I had to threatenTravis to stop talking about the damn Vault Dweller? Did he drop that holotape so I’d listen to it?”

“What if the answer to all that was yes?”

“ _Why_? Why did he wait till I found the Railroad? Why didn’t he just _say_ something, he had plenty of opportunities, Diamond City, Goodneighbor, Bunker Hill and University Point. Though why he was there is still beyond me."

“What makes you say that?”

“University Point…UP…”

“Deathclaws…”

_How the hell does she know about that?_ No one knew about that, at least no one still alive. 

“Yeah, and after everything that happened with his wife…”

“Barbara. Her name was Barbara.”

Deacon hadn’t said her name out loud in years, no one in the Railroad knew about her. 

_Yep, still sucks._

“The only reason he’d go anywhere near that place would be for the Railroad, which makes me think that not even Desdemona knows about his past. Everyone’s got shit they’re not telling people, including yours truly, but when I took him to Nick’s office…He saved my life, more times than either of us will admit to, he deserved to know why I tracked down the Railroad, why I _really_ need to find the Institute.”

They were on the subject now, here was his chance.

“What if you find Shaun, but he’s not what you expect?”

“I’ve always assumed time had past between the two events, but ten years isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, there’s still a chance I can find him. I just have to find Kellogg first.”

“What if he’s not a ten year old though? Ellie said it herself, there was no date in the file…”

Her head throbbed and she groaned, holding her fists to her head.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay…what do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing, I just wan-“

And with that Whisper was unconscious again, and it was only… _6am._ Five minutes later Forsythe walked into the room to start his shift and Deacon didn’t sleep again that day.

Piper had opted to keep a close eye on her friend rather than her sister. She knew Nat would have been a little shaken up after what happened, and she knew her little sister would try desperately to hide it so they did what they always did when things got bad. Got some food and talked about the most mundane of things, to distract both of them. Having Erin around helped and Austin had recovered so quickly that it made everyone hopeful that Blue would recover even quicker, she was far more resilient than a kid. But for some reason, unknown to all, her recovery was taking longer than normal.

Not that anything about the situation was normal. Nothing was ever normal in the Commonwealth.

Two days, two days she’d been asleep - practically in a coma - and Piper was fully aware that Deacon had not left her side once. She herself had gone to sleep in the room that had been offered to them whilst they waited, and when Piper would return to Blue, there Deacon would be, sitting in the exact spot he had been since he put her down on the table.

He hadn’t got up for anything, even a few times she joked and shouted ‘fire’ behind him but he didn’t move a muscle. She suspected he hadn’t eaten a thing and had resorted to shoving food in front of him because Blue would kill her if she let him die of starvation.

When she first woke up Piper knew she wasn’t all there, Blue was high off her face, convinced she was dreaming, and Deacon was the only person she could see. And it had been obvious from the beginning that the same could be said for Deacon.

She was glad to witness it, even from the sidelines, watching a partnership that was just a little too touchy feely to be just a friendship. They cared about each other, conversation came easy to them and Deacon indulged every question that she asked every time she was awake.

“You know I still can’t figure out why Valentine’s name seems so familiar to me.”

Deacon wasn’t aware that it was.

“Didn’t happen to save him in your previous life, did you?

“No. I’d remember that. It’s something…not said to me but I heard it.”

“Well, Nick Valentine was a prewar detective.”

“Yeah, but I never used him before. No one I’ve known has…it’s been bugging me since I heard his name for the first time.”

“It’ll come to you, just need to give it time.”

“I’ve given it over five months, I wish my brain would work a little faster.”

“Well, you do keep getting distracted.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot more of those in this life. You don’t exactly help the situation, you do know that don’t you?”

Oh yeah, he knew alright.

Forsythe had finished his hourly check on her and left to tally the results. Piper left to get both of them food, because she’d got in the habit of putting a tray in his lap. He knew she wasn’t doing it for him, she was doing it for Whisper.

“I’ll be happy when winter’s…” he saw the synapse in her brain fire, “over.”

“What are you remembering?”

To be honest it was a stab in the dark, he literally had no idea what happened then.

“I-I, something about winter…just got a flash of something. It’s gone now…I hate it when that happens.”

“Was it about Valentine?” Because he really didn’t want it to be about the kid.

“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie…” she repeated the assistant’s name like a mantra. “ _Winter._ ”

With energy she wasn’t supposed to have she lunged forward, put her hands either side of Deacon’s face and kissed him.

“Subconscious I love you. Eddie Winter! That’s where I know the name from. He’d come to Sanctuary, bragged to Nathaniel about murdering some detective’s fiancee,” she gasped and put her hands over her mouth, “I have to speak to Nick, he’s probably got all the memories of her.”

“You need to get better first.”

“I know…how long have I been hooked up?”

“Three days now.”

“Three days stuck with your mug, how’d I get so lucky eh?”

It’s the sort of thing he’d say in a situation like this, and he loved her for saying it.

“And yet, I only have the pleasure of seeing your face.”

“At least you get to _see_ my face. Man, Deacon would love the opportunity to see it this close and yet, I still dream of you wearing sunglasses.”

He didn’t know why he was choosing to do it, perhaps because it was the only thing he had left to offer. Besides the secret he’d take to the grave. She (somehow) knew about his past with the UP Deathclaws and Barbara, she probably also knew what happened between and after those events. He bent forward, leant in as close as he could (not before double checking the empty room) and pulled his sunglasses down to his nose.

Her eyes widened at the sight of them, her head fell to one side and in a breath she uttered a single word.

“Wow.” 

The sky was blue, she had a few wigs that were blue but nothing quite matched the blue of his eyes. Deep, vibrant like the ocean pre-nuclear fallout, an ocean she would happily swim through. She saw everything, the pain, the anger; his entire life was written in his stare. No wonder he wore sunglasses.

“My imagination is better than I thought. My caps are on them being brown, but still, that was nice,” she smiled.

_Un-fucking-believable._

She drifted in and out of consciousness for the whole day and the day after - that was a total of six days they had spent in the vault -Nat wasn’t bored yet which was good but there was still no change in her, she didn’t get worse but she wasn’t getting better. Blue was stuck.

_She’s been here before_. His mind went back a week, inside Valentine’s office, when she told them about being frozen…for two hundred years.

Subconsciously Whisper _must_ have been aware of Piper’s presence, and all the other people that walked in and out, but even when Forsythe came over to check her temperature and vitals she carried on talking as if she couldn’t feel, see or hear him.

“I’m going to have to kill him aren’t I?” Deacon knew who she was talking about. “It’d be nice, you know, not to have to kill anyone but what if I don’t have a choice. I doubt the man’s the type to go down easily…and he took Shaun. He deserves it…right?”

Her eyes looked at him pleadingly, she knew what she had to do and she needed him to tell her it was the right thing to do. It was, he knew that. A bastard like Kellogg needed to put down before he ruined more lives.

“If it’s a case of you or him, I’d definitely choose you,” he smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds like something I’d say. Okay, but _only_ if I don’t have a choice.”

It was late evening, everyone was starting to turn in, so naturally, Whisper changed the subject to something a little more real.

“You know, Deacon always jokes about having plastic surgery, has he?”

“Not gonna say I’ve had a reboot but yeah, I’ve had a few scars added here and there. Just to mix it up a little.”

“So where did the body come from? I mean, I have my theories.”

He watched, dumbstruck, when Whisper bit her lip and he knew she was connecting with the memory of him taking it off in Hangman’s Alley. He’d been too busy feeling gross to pay attention at the time, but evidently Whisper liked what she saw. Same went for him really.

“Such as?”

“Well, either you are more pro-chem than you want people to think. A few hits of Psycho every now and then to get the blood pumping…but you really are anti-chems so the only other possibility is that it stems from something deeper. Something that started when you were young.”

Her pupils were blown from the chems still being pumped into her system (he seriously doubted they were helping her as much as everyone else liked to think), eyes red from sleep-deprivation.

“You’ve probably always been strong, but maybe you didn’t always look it. That’s why every muscle is covered up by a t-shirt, because you want to be reminded of the kid who didn’t look like much. Plus, I think you like watching the surprised look on people’s faces.”

“Don’t you think it makes everything so boring though? Seeing everything for what it really is.”

“Some people are taught to lie, others are born with it…we’re naturals. You and I, we lie about who we really are, not just to protect ourselves but also to protect those around us. Some souls are just too pure to know the burdens we must bare. We lie, therefore we see a lie. But I can see your point. I guess that’s why we like to watch other people believe the lie. You feel horrible when you realise you’ve been lied to, but you can’t deny the rush we both get from watching people in that moment of pure belief.”

They were talking about things they’d never discussed it before. It felt natural, not weird or invasive. It felt right.

“Oh crap, you know I can’t remember the last time I checked in at Castle, do you think Preston’ll give someone else my title?”

She was a little more lucid today, still completely out of it but, slowly, she was getting better.

“Now why would he go replacing the greatest General of all time?” he comforted.

“Damn skippy,” she beamed. “Thanks for being here with me.”

She woke up, into reality this time. She felt stronger, her eyesight not so blurred and her body not so heavy.

She moved her hand to grab at the blanket covering her but instead felt the smoothness of skin, she looked down to realise her hand was resting on Deacon’s sleeping head. She smiled weakly as she remembered her dreams. He was always there with her, even when she least expected him to be.

Still, it would have made more sense if she’d dreamt about MacCready or Hancock.

“Deacon?” she whispered, her hand pushing gently at his head. He groaned and his head rolled slightly. “Deacon?”

He shot up from the bed so fast she wondered whether him saying he was a synth really wasn’t just bullshit.

“You’re awake,” her heart lifted at the smile on his face. Lines of concern, that had clearly been etched in for days, begun to fade and she saw the moment relief washed over.

“Where’s Austin?”

_Her first question_. Whisper really was all sorts of incredible. He had to tell her, too much time had past already.

Leave it to Piper to ruin the moment. A squeal left the reporter’s mouth before Whisper disappeared behind a waterfall of black hair. He saw Whisper look at him over Piper’s shoulder and smile before letting the report smother her with attention

One last check over from Dr. Forsythe and she was given the okay to leave. With their eternal gratitude and a room to use every time she came to visit.

“Well, I don’t think anyone could say it was boring,” sighed Piper, who was dragging a reluctant to leave Nat away from the vault.

_It certainly wasn’t boring_. She could feel Deacon’s eyes on her the moment she got out of bed, they barely left her and she felt his hands on her when she missed a step. He’d remained closer to her as they walked away, probably a little closer than necessary but neither of them said a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are finally being honest with each other...might be getting somewhere now.
> 
> As always thanks for reading. If you're still here you've come a long way, thanks for sticking with me and I hope you have the strength to stick around.
> 
> You guys are awesome xx


	29. Angels With Snipers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world isn't done throwing crap at Deacon, and Whisper keeps getting caught in the crossfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate this fic getting 100 kudos (again, thank you guys so much) I give you this.
> 
> More angst, more weird flashbacks and Glory playing matchmaker.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Angels With Snipers - InMe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMIYPKOLkoE))

_When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions._

 

_The pain was always unbearable, no matter how many chems she took beforehand. It would sear through her head, making it feel like her brain was on fire. She didn’t remember much of her life before the academy anyway, it was lost on her why they felt the need to do it._

_She was strapped down, they were softer with her the first time, told her exactly what she would experience. Apparently pain wasn’t quantifiable._

_She could feel parts of herself slipping away, someone new added in to replace what they took, no matter how many times she tried to remember. Everything that once was, was now lost to her forever and she knew that dwelling on the past would swallow her whole._

_Clara came first, when she was seventeen and was sent on her first undercover mission. Her task was to infiltrate a gang working out of Albania who were kidnapping girls as young as ten and thrusting them into the sex trade. She had to be a victim, she had to find a way to shut them down and save as many people as she could._

_In the end she didn’t know any many of them survived. There were thirty of them at first, then eighteen of them were dragged away. She scanned the room and immediately knew why they’d been separated, five of them were at least ten, some looked like they were just beginning puberty and the rest were around her age, maybe one or two of them in their twenties. They were ‘intact’; virgins._

_Eventually even the twelve of them were separated and she never saw any of them again. She liked to think that those who didn’t die from chem overdose were saved, collected when the academy finally stepped in and shut down the whole operation._

_She wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or grateful that they had been tracking her the entire time. Apparently, when she was laying unconscious on the operation table they felt like adding a few extras they hadn’t bothered to tell her._

_Then she was no one for a while, just a letter and a few numbers. She experienced, what the Director referred to as ‘shock trauma’ and was quarantined in a soft cell for seventy-two hours. She did nothing but sit there, with her arms strapped to her chest, and wait for them to open the door._

_When they reached the decision that she could go back into the field they put her on protection detail, mostly behind the shadows work, the Director was always careful not to try to put her in the line of fire if she could prevent it._

_She was too important…apparently._

_At twenty years old the pain was back, her mind unravelling inside her head and she was Alice. She was still in protection detail, but apparently this one required her to be a little closer. Witness protection for a high profile case in America._

_The accent was easy enough, Alice came with a background that gave a good description of her home in Atlanta, not that she knew why they’d bothered to give her that._

_Then she met Billy. A beautiful nine year old boy with short, fair hair and soft grey eyes that screamed innocence and she made a vow to protect that innocence with her life._

_Someone deserved to be able to dream a little longer and it was nice for her to be around someone who didn’t grow up like her. She watched him grow up happy, he was going to a small school in Quincy and she walked him there every day, under the guise of being his sister. He knew she wasn’t, but he liked to think of her as one and she had to admit that it was nice being one._

_She always spoke to him about his day, educating him on poetry when he showed his distaste._

_“William Shakespeare is the greatest man of all time, Billy. Read a few of his plays, I think you’d like Hamlet.”_

_“Will you read it to me?”_

_“How about we both read it? I’ll read the girl parts, you read the boy’s?”_

_Two years was not enough time to spend with the only people she thought of as family, but her job pulled her away once more. She was surprised they hadn’t done it sooner, the trail had ended thirteen months in and she was sure the threat of their lives was over a few months after that._

_Though, she knew being pulled away that early on still would have hurt._

_In hindsight, she wasn’t sure why they were sending her home just to send her right back again but the Director and her superior officers always did like her to debrief in person, so they could tell if she was lying to them or not. Normally she wasn’t, so they could never tell when she was._

_Alice stepped off the tarmac of the Boston Airport runway and five days later Nora stepped onto it._

_Then she was a lot of people; General, Boss, Sunshine, Blue, Vault Dweller, Whisper, and she was sure the real her was still buried inside somewhere. She just didn’t know who the ‘real’ her was._

 

* * * *

 

Having nowhere to go, and no real reason to stay inside Vault 81, Curie followed them out. The human race always fascinated her, she’d lived amongst a few of them before, spending most of her time with Dr. Collins - to whom she owed her existence — until he too died and she was left alone.

She looked at the tall black-haired lady, a smaller version of her walking by her side and quickly deduced that they were in some way related, though she wasn’t sure of their relationship. The concept of family had been explained to her, how some humans shared a similar genetic code and how they lived in close quarters, and she experienced it from the outside as she watched the residents of Vault 81.

She looked over at her saviour, secretly scanning her vitals as she did. She was walking close to the bald man, the man who hadn’t left her side, and she wondered the extent of their relationship. Her face was covered up now but Curie remembered it, she couldn’t recall any similarities between her face and the man next to her.

Curie was too busy taking in the people and buildings around her to realise they had all stopped and she had to act fast not to knock into the small black-haired girl.

“Its time to split up,” explained her saviour. “Piper and Nat are heading towards Diamond City, I want you to go with them Curie.”

“Are you sure Mademoiselle? You are still not a hundred percent, I would feel better if you let me stay with you until you are.”

“I’d love you to Curie, I really would, but our boss will have my head if I bring you in. We have a perfectly good doctor, but I promise to come back so you can check for yourself.”

“That would make Curie feel a lot better. Please be careful Mademoiselle.”

“I always am.”

The five of them separated and Curie wondered when she would see the woman again.

“Don’t worry Curie, Deacon won’t let anything bad happen to her.”

That much had been obvious from the moment this whole mess started.

She couldn’t look Deacon in the…well, in the sunglasses, because she remembered every conversation they had in her dream and even though she knew it wasn’t real it was hard not to look at him in a new light. Her subconscious must have been right about _some_ things, and she found herself wondering which ones.

“Let’s not tell John about this,” she advised when they came near the town.

“Agreed.”

They were quick to take a detour around Goodneighbor, being careful to avoid the neighbourhood watchmen Hancock had all of a sudden decided to post outside.

She instantly knew it had something to do with her.

“Do you think Desdemona will be worried?”

“Worried? Nah. Annoying? No doubt about it.”

He was right, Dez was always pissed when he disappeared for weeks at a time and a part of him wasn’t sure if the excuse of Whisper needing medical attention would work again, even though he hadn’t been lying.

“I’ll go tell Dez, I’ll check on you after, okay?”

_He really does care about me._ “Sure.”

As soon as Whisper branched off away from him he let out the breath he’d been holding since they separated from Piper and her sister.

He had an excuse when they were stuck inside Vault 81, she never stayed conscious long enough for him to tell her but it had taken a few hours to get back to HQ, he had ample opportunity. Yet, he had said nothing.

He was counting himself lucky Whisper didn’t seem to be in a rush to go to Sanctuary (he still believed she was purposely keeping him away from the place) because he knew he had to tell her before they came face to face with Kellogg.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” asked Glory as soon as she walked into the tunnel. “Did I really kick you _that_ hard?”

She breathed a laugh and sat down on her usual mattress. “No, Glory, of course not. It’s just…it’s been an eventful few weeks.” 

That was putting it lightly.

“So, you’re ready to come out as the Railroad’s new power couple?” smiled Glory.

“When are you going to let this go? Deacon and I aren’t like that, the closest we’ve come to sleeping with each other is about two feet.”

She purposely left out the part where she woke up with her hand on his head, Glory didn’t need to know every detail.

There was a sudden glint in Glory’s eyes and she swore she actually heard her synth brain concocting an idea. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, no.” She was quick to say before a smile crept over Glory’s face.

“What if I dare you?” A white eyebrow rose over her forehead in challenge.

“I guess that would depend on what the dare actually is,” she replied cautiously, she could never resist a challenge.

“I dare you to sleep with Deacon tonight.” Sometimes people need a little push and Glory knew it would be better for everyone if the two of them just put aside their damn pride for once. Although, in this particular instance, their pride might just win out.

“You’re not seriously suggesting I fuck Deacon on a dare?” She practically felt her pupils explode when her brain offered her an image of said event.

“ _No_ , Dez will kill both of you if you’re caught doing that. I mean just _sleep_ next to him.”

“ _Why_? What’s your angle Glory?”

“No angle,” said the lie straight out of her mouth. She knew Glory was lying, she just didn’t know why she wasn’t calling her out on it. “Things get boring in HQ, sometimes you have to make your own entertainment.”

Ending with a truth. Deacon must have been her mentor.

“In which case, I dare you to sleep with Drummer Boy,”

“Sure,” she said a little too casually as she stood up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Wait, what?” She was quick on her feet. “Glory, have you-“

“Night!” she waved as she disappeared into the war room.

“Glory!” she followed.

“Deacon, are you even going to tell me what happened this time?”

“Nothing that harms the integrity of the Railroad boss, that I can promise you.”

“Fine.” She relented, just like always because she knew he was never going to tell her and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “I’ve got a mission for the two of you, I suggest you get some rest.”

“Uh, details Dez?”

“You’re going to Goodneighbor to see Dr. Amari. A synth needs transporting out of the Commonwealth and we got a tip off that Institute synths are patrolling the route we set out. I need you and Whisper to scout out another one.”

_That could take days…_

Deacon was just making his way towards the tunnel when Glory came running out of it, and he knocked into Whisper when she quickly followed.

“Sorry,” she giggled. His hands were possessively on her forearms, at first she thought he’d done it to brace himself, now she wasn’t entire sure.

“You okay?” There was so much concern in his voice her heart fluttered at the sound of it.

“All things considered? Yeah, I’m okay. Though, is it weird that I’m tired?”

_No, because you weren’t asleep as much as you thought._ “A little, yeah.”

“So, are we in the doghouse?”

“Course not, I told you, Dez is _super_ protective of me.”

“Speaking of which,” she began, finally peeling herself out of his grasp. “Someone owes me their recall code.”

“Oh, right!” He’d completely forgotten about that, a lot had happened since then. She must have been playing along because he damn well knew she knew he was bullshitting. “Got a pen?…And a piece of paper?”

“Right here boss,” she’d come prepared, she was curious as to what he would put.

“Do me a favour?” he folded the scrap of paper and held it out for her to take, along with her pen. “Don’t read it in front of me…and maybe do it out of HQ, who knows what Dez will do to you if her favourite synth shuts down.”

“I’m sure the Railroad will survive without you, I mean, they’ve got me now.”

Deacon didn’t need to see her face to read the huge childish smile she had.

“If your head gets any bigger, you’re gonna have trouble fitting through the door.”

“I think with all the shit I’d had to put up with, I deserve to be a little big headed.”

Deacon couldn’t agree more.

“Listen, not that this isn’t fun, but you caught me in the middle of chasing Glory. Do you mind if I…?”

She gestured towards the synth who was making a beeline for Drummer Boy.

“No, course. Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” She patted him on the back and chased after Glory.

Deacon watched as the two of them caught up and had the quietest, most childish fight he’d ever seen either of them partake in. They were careful not to make too much noise, so neither Dez or Carrington saw them, but they were mouthing obvious obscenities at each other, their arms were going everywhere and there was a push every now and then. Mostly started by Whisper, in retaliation Glory slammed her hand down _hard_ on Whisper’s shoulder and smiled.

Deacon had always been a light sleeper, it came with the job so when his surroundings didn’t seem right his body lurched him awake. His eyes took a moment to focus underneath his sunglasses and looked up at the shadowy figure he’d been dreaming about since Vault 111.

“Hey,” she said softly, the white run of her teeth shone even more in the light of HQ and he found it interesting that she had taken off her bandana. In the confines of HQ he’d only ever seen her without it once.

“Hey,” his voice lingered a little too long on the word and it came out more like a question than a term of endearment.

“Glory’s getting reacquainted with Drummer Boy,” she explained as she bent down next to him. “One thing good about sleeping next to her is that she keeps you warm.”

Next thing he knew, Whisper was sliding down onto his mattress. 

“And that tunnel is freezing.” Accidental or not, he wasn’t certain, but she pushed her ass against him when she wriggled down next to him.

All of that was true and she had to concentrate not to let her heart beat too fast. Lying by telling the truth. It got her every time.

Having the contour of her body pressed up against his was bad enough, then came the question of where the hell he put his hands. Whisper answered what he was doing with his left by cradling her neck over his arm and his right hovered in the air, unsure of where to put itself.

“Just put it where you want,” she said sleepily and Deacon stilled at the innuendo, not sure if it was intentional or not.

Okay, so far, the dare was going in her favour. Deacon radiated a lot of body heat, and she honestly could not find the downside to being pressed against his muscular front. Something about him made her feel safe, given how many times he’d helped her it wasn’t all that surprising.

When he stiffened behind her she reluctantly moved to look at him. He was wearing his sunglasses and for a moment she swore she could see through them. She remembered her dream, when he showed her his vibrant blue eyes and she wondered if his real ones would ever match up.

“You alright?"

Deacon didn’t reply, his eyes were fixated on hers. She’d taken off her sunglasses and he hadn’t even seen her do it.

This position, those eyes…the only thing he wanted to do it that moment was lean forward and kiss her. Kiss the crap out of her and tell her that all her secrets were safe with him. He remembered everything. Every question she asked, the difference between the ones she asked when they were alone and the ones when there were other people in the room. She thought she was dreaming _every time_ but subconsciously she must have known there were other people around, because her questions were a lot more ridiculous and childish. He made a silent promise to her never to repeat, even to himself, anything they talked about, he’d let her think it was a dream. But for him it was very real, a little too real.

The only thing that stopped him from kissing her was the fact that he was still keeping secrets from her, not as many as he was hoping granted, but this one was not about him and it was his worry and self-hatred that stopped him from telling her.

_She’ll leave_.

“I’m fine, and I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

“You did,” she smiled.

Even in the dim light of HQ, the shadow the desk created, he could see her dilated pupils and he couldn’t allow himself to give in to them.

Whisper stayed on her back and his arm could only rest on her stomach, almost breaking his radius bone on her abs.

“So, what mission did Desdemona give us?” she whispered.

“There’s a synth we’re trying to get out of Goodneighbor but the original path’s been compromised. Dez wants us to scout for a new one.”

“Why? Let’s just clear the path we already have, surely that’s simpler?”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, so does Carrington. Though I don’t know what I find more disturbing, that he actually disagrees with Dez on something or that he and I found common ground.”

“Then why don’t we just do that? Just because she’s the boss doesn’t mean she’s always right. We help the synth get out of Goodneighbor, she won’t care how we do it, as long as we do it.”

“Okay, but if she bitches, it’s on you.”

“Deal.”

 

* * * *

 

For the first time in a while she didn’t dream of her childhood, didn’t dream of all the things she just wanted to forget. This time she dreamt of nothing, the darkness, the silence - it was peaceful. 

They woke up simultaneously, laying on his side Deacon stretched his back, pressing his hips into Whisper’s side whilst she arched her back, feeling the pressure of the arm that had been laying over her all night.

“Good morning,” she smiled as she turned her head

“Morning,” he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying it, they weren’t allowed to have moments like this because he knew it would become something bigger if they let it, but he couldn’t let it. He had to try to distance himself from her, pull back slightly because it was only natural for people travelling together to get better acquainted and the closer he got to her, the more everything would hurt. Deacon could already feel the impending shit-storm and knew he couldn’t out run it forever.

He needed to tell her.

…As soon as they finished the mission.

“Jack?” Same jacket, same hat, same confused look on his face. Same everything. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” He recognised the name but not the woman who said it.

The way he looked through her, her mouth fell open from shock. Stabbing her like a small blade to the chest and she was sure a piece of her recoiled at the feel of it. 

Maybe her heart wasn’t black after all, if she was hurt that a man she’d only met once before - under stressful circumstances - didn’t recognise her. _Why doesn’t he know who I am?_

She looked at Deacon, her face painted with an expression he couldn’t see. Desdemona hadn’t said a word about _this_ , they were just there to tell Amari they were sticking to the original plan. They were helping a synth get out of the Commonwealth, not one of them said it was this synth in particular.

It didn’t matter how much of her face she covered, they’d been travelling together for long enough now that Deacon didn’t need to see it to know what she was asking.

_Did you know about this?_

_Not a clue_. He shook his head.

Deacon was not a happy Death Bunny. It had been almost two weeks since they’d left Valentine’s office and he’d been meaning to speak to her at every available moment. Except there never were any available moments because, apparently, the world wasn’t done throwing shit at them. Though he knew the shit was actually being directed at him, Whisper, unfortunately, was just getting caught in the cross fire.

Shock went through her entire body and he saw the moment Jack didn’t know who she was. So much sadness was radiating off her that he could practically see it rippling in the air.

“You’re not due for another check for a few days, or do you have another injury for me to examine?” asked Amari.

Whisper didn’t respond, all of her attention was stuck on the man looking at her like she was a complete stranger. Deacon didn’t mind, it was part of the job to be forgettable, and most synths who came to Amari got the memory wipe, but yeah, it was annoying when witnessing it in person. He had no idea who they were after essentially saving his ass from the rest of the Commonwealth, and the Institute.

“Actually, we’re here about him.” Deacon pointed to the man sat down on the couch. Time to get down to business, considering time was a factor.

He was ignoring the fact that even over two months later, Whisper was still visiting Amari on a regular basis. There was something to be said for being cautious, though it went a long way to explain why she spent so much time in Goodneighbor. 

“Really? Just when I thought one person could only experience so much danger their life…”

She wasn’t listening to either of them, white noise that’s what they were, her mind was shooting a million thoughts at her in one hit. She remembered everyone she saved, whether she wanted to or not, she expected them to forget her, she was just a saviour in a mask, but apparently witnessing the event hurt like hell. 

When they first met he was H2-22, a scared synth who was overwhelmed by the new world around him, dreams of a life he couldn’t remembered and by the time they parted he thought of himself as a man, going by the name of Jack. But now, he looked just as terrified and confused as before.

She propped her sunglasses on her head and pulled her bandana around her neck. Maybe seeing her face would help (she knew it wouldn’t, he’d never seen it before)…Nope, he just looked at her like she was crazy before looking as though he was about to mount her.

“What did you do to him?” she finally asked because there was no way delayed trauma caused that much memory loss. She didn’t bother to turn her head to look at either of them - her eyes stuck on the man she knew as Jack. She was cutting in-between whatever Amari and Deacon were talking about but she didn’t care. 

“Many synths who come here, come here because they want to forget about the Institute. A memory wipe is the only thing that does that.”

Why was she saying it like it was perfectly normal, and acceptable, to do that?

“A memory wipe?”

“Yes, they are reprogrammed, who they were in the Institute is erased and a new personality put in.”

“Give him any good memories? Meetings with sexy strangers, that kind of thing?” joked Deacon, knowing full well it was not the time but the room was way too serious.

That’s why it angered her, that was why she felt it down to her very core. Because it was essentially what had been done it her. To have everything you were taken out of you and someone new stuffed in. To be unmade. He was safe, alive, but he was gone.

_Why on earth would he do this?_

“But…I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

She turned, of course she had to turn at that exact moment so Deacon could see the sadness written over every part of her. He wanted to rip out his eyes just at the sight of it. Nothing Whisper said beyond this point would be as honest as her entire being right now, the pure unadulterated grief that came from knowing Jack would never know who she was, how they had helped save him. The pain that came with that realisation. The anger from the fact he’d taken the easy way out and the torment she also felt from despising herself because she hated him for doing it.

He hated the fact he was seeing all of it, but mostly he hated that she was feeling all of it and the only thing he could do was internally apologise to her every five-seconds because it wasn’t her fault, it had nothing to do with her. All of what was happening was because of him, he was the one to blame.

“He talked about you a lot,” comforted Amari, her gaze only on Whisper. 

_Hey, I was there too._ He glared at H- _Jack._

“Even asked for his name to be Jack.”

_Why are we talking about him like he’s not sat right fucking there!_ Her thoughts screamed. How could the Railroad find this sort of shit acceptable? The day she planned to speak to Desdemona as General was approaching faster every day. 

“He left a holotape before his memory wipe - your ears only,” she added as she reached inside her pocket and held out the holotape for her to take.

The second she took it Deacon knew she wanted to run off and listen to it. But she didn’t, she waited until they had finished speaking to Amari and half-way up the stairs she stopped and in front of him, put the holotape in her Pip-Boy and pressed play.

Deacon had been there too, she wanted him to hear it.

“The doctor said I could say goodbye. I’ve decided…to have the operation. I know I’ll lose all my memories. I don’t want you to be sad. I…I have nightmare. And this world, the SRB, being hunted. I just can’t handle it. Everyone says I’ll be safe if I start a new life.”

_Bullshit._

“I know I’ll be happier. My only regret is I’ll forget Old Man Stockton, High-Rise. And you.”

_What about me?_ He shot another glare down the stairs, aimed at the man who didn’t know who the fuck he was.

“You helped me when no one else did.”

_I did too._

“You made me laugh, for the first time in forever. You even gave me a name! You helped me when I was scared. Looking back, there’s only fear. Worse than fear. But I’ll miss you. I…uh…Thanks.”

It was like the letters Billy showed her, worse in fact because she could hear him saying it. She couldn’t control how she felt, Jack had done the wrong thing, but in her heart she knew he had accepted his decision and he was ready. 

She wondered if she would have been like that, if they had given her the choice. Would she still have become the woman she was today? Or would she have fought her way back home?

_Thinking about this shit is going to make you crazy._

She sniffed, wiped the sentiment off her face and readjusted herself.

“We should head to the Malden Center now.”

She needed a distraction, she needed to bury herself in work. For an organisation she wasn’t too happy to be a part of right now.

The journey there had been straight forward enough, no surprises. Until they got there.

“Glory?” she ran up to her and unashamedly wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in for a hug.

Glory read the pain in her posture and held her tighter.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered before peeling away. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m guessing,” she looked over at Deacon, “the same thing as you. With all our ‘compartmentalisation’ bullshit - this sort of shit happens.”

“Let me guess, you got it from Griswold,” smiled Deacon.

“Got in one. Well, since we’re here. What do you say the three heavies join forces and rock the heavens a little? Gives me a chance to see what you and Deacon really get up to in the field.”

Glory shot Whisper a wink Deacon didn’t understand.

“Usually it’s spa days and macrame, but hey, I’m up for some mayhem.”

Plus, maybe Glory could keep Whisper company for a bit instead.

“Let’s do this, Glory.”

It was what she needed; to kill something. And who better to do it with than Glory.

“Lead the way my friend.”

The women walked, arm in arm, ahead of him, talking as though they weren’t about to go into a building filled with synths. But Deacon didn’t mind, Glory quickly got Whisper laughing and it was nice to hear, after all the crap she’d been through over the past fortnight.

Between the three of them (truth be told Whisper did most of the killing) they’d cleared the place out in just over an hour. Then they split up, Glory to go tell Griswold Safehouse and them to go inform Dez. Then Whisper suggested something that both surprised and annoyed him.

“Do you mind going to HQ on your own? I don’t think I can look Desdemona in the eye right now,” she admitted. “And when you tell her he’s safe to move, make sure you call him Jack and then you can tell me I was right when she wonders who that is.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Diamond City. I need to talk to Valentine about something.” Deacon knew exactly what she had to tell him. “And it’s about time I check in on Piper and Nat, after everything that happened. I never got a chance to talk to Nat myself and she always tell me more than she tells Piper.”

He’d witnessed Whisper and Nat’s relationship on the way to Vault 81, they whispered to each other a lot and, from what he could hear, they even had their own secret language. He should have remembered from the way she protected Billy back in Quincy that she liked playing the role of big sister. It seemed to come naturally to her too, as if she had actually been a sister at some point in her life. For real, not just for a job.

He was reluctant to agree, but relieved at the same time. He needed a break from her, and perhaps the shit wouldn’t rain down on her for once. When he was done talking to Dez, and she was done talking to Piper he was going to have to tell her the truth about Kellogg.

She wasn’t sure why he did it, she wasn’t questioning his reasoning nor the fact she liked it but for some reason Deacon walked with her all the way to the outskirts of Diamond City before departing towards HQ. He said goodbye and squeezed her shoulder, she smiled and patted his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, a chapter under 6,000 words. Though it has doubled since I first drafted it.
> 
> This is somewhat based on how I felt when I played Memory Interrupted for the first time. I wasn't listening so when I got to the Memory Den I was like, wtf? Why did no one tell me this? Of course I wasn't quite as upset as Whisper.


	30. Sucker For Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper discovers the difference between dreams and reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fluff, with a purpose (I think...)
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Sucker for Pain - Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons w/ Logic & Ty Dolla $ign ft X Ambassadors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-59jGD4WrmE))

_Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent._

 

The distance between the gate and the marketplace usually took her less than a minute to travel, but at that moment it seemed difficult to put one foot in front of the other and she wasn’t sure what her brain actually wanted her to do. Though there was a tiny voice (that sounded a lot like Nora) telling her to double back and catch up with Deacon, the fact it would mean she would have to go back to HQ and have to stand in front of Desdemona was the only thing that stopped her from doing just that.

She was halfway down the steps when she noticed the familiar black haired girl stood on her usual box and her feet picked up their pace just a little.

“Hey Nat!” she shouted as she ran down the last few remaining steps.

“Blue!” Nat jumped up and down but didn’t move and she was sure it looked like Nat wanted to hug her, of her own volition this time.

“You hungry?” She asked when they were close, Nat nodded. “Come on, let’s get some noodles,” she gestured for her to walk ahead. This is what Piper did, took her for something to eat. 

They were sat at the counter, her eyes were fixated on Nat, whose eyes were glued to the inside of her carton.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” she asked softly.

There was a few seconds of silence and she saw Nat internally argue with herself as to whether or not she should be honest. Piper had asked that question a lot over the last week but she got used to lying to her sister, Piper was usually too busy or too in denial to really register what Nat was saying, Blue wasn’t like that though, she listened (like actually listened, not just hearing what she wanted to). Blue was the big sister she never had. 

“I was scared, like really scared.” She continued to stare down at the food she suddenly wasn’t hungry for. It was the first time she had admitted it out loud, and contrary to what Piper had told her, saying it out loud didn’t make her feel any better.

“I know, I know,” she wrapped one arm around her and pulled her into her side. “I’m sorry you had to see it Nat.”

She was. She was sorry anyone had to go through what they did down in the vault. It was okay for her, she was unconscious for most of it, she was just there at the beginning and end. She hated that Nat and Erin saw it, and that Austin got a glimpse of what happened to him.

“What you did was really cool though, risking your life for Austin an’ all.”

“It was the right thing to do, I’d do it again if I had to.”

It was the truth, despite everything that had happened to her since Valentine’s office (and a lot of the stuff before that), she wouldn’t change a thing. She’d brought families closer together, helped people survive, and the relationship between her and Deacon was evolving.

“Deacon was scared too.” She peeled Nat away from her side to look at her. “I mean he didn’t say he was, but I mean everyone was freaking out, even Pipes.”

She could imagine how Piper had reacted through the whole thing, but not as bad as Daisy would have been.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” she could read the guilt in her posture, eyes stuck on the floor, her lips folded inwards - it was the same on everyone.

“But if I hadn’t-“

“Nat, if we hadn’t gone to the vault when we did, Austin could have _died_. The universe works like that sometimes,” especially in her case. “You have to go through something bad to get something good in the end. I’m alive and so is Austin.”

Nat seemed to relax after a while, happily ate her way through two more boxes of noodles and told her what had happened in Diamond City over the past week. Just the usual, Piper trying to expose both the Institute and the Mayor and everyone bricking themselves over the possibility of their loved ones being replaced.

“How’s Curie?” she asked as they made their way back towards Publick Occurrences.

“She’s okay, asks a lot of questions. More than Piper.” 

When they walked inside she wasn’t sure what affected her more, the Miss Nanny who was suddenly probing her or the deafening squeal that could rival Daisy. 

“Curie, remind me to teach you about personal space,” she smiled, taking a step back to gain some breathing room. “Piper, _chill._ ” Her face was buried in black hair

“Sorry, I’m just…you left so quickly I didn’t get a chance to make sure you were _really_ okay.”

“I’m fine Piper but your concern is appreciated.”

“My indicators show that you are operating at ninety-six percent capacity.”

There was a sudden silence in the room, when they were all wondering if Curie meant it in a positive way or not.

“So,” Piper clapped her hands together, finally breaking the silence. “it’s not as good as the Third Rail but how about we go to the Dugout? God knows I could use a drink.”

She could too.

 

* * * *

 

“Who the hell is Jack?” asked Dez.

Deacon was both shocked and not surprised by her question. Whisper had assumed as much, so had he, but actually hearing her ask made him lose just a little more respect for her.

“The synth you were worried about?” He retorted, a hint of irritation in his voice. He knew why Whisper had given the guy a name, H2-22 was hardly a blend-into-the-crowd way to introduce yourself. Dez’s problem was that she was all about the big picture, never gave much thought to the details.

But Deacon was all about details.

“Oh. What have you done with Whisper?”

“She was called away on Minutemen business, she’ll be back soon enough.” Deacon could have told her the truth, even if it was just to get high off the look on her face, but there was no harm in keeping another one of Whisper’s secrets, and it certainly wasn’t the worst one he knew.

“Deacon, what do you two actually spend your time doing?”

“Our jobs, boss. What else?”

“Hmm,” Deacon felt her eyes scan over him and internally he was wishing her luck, smarter women have tried.

“I worry that Whisper’s involvement with the Minutemen is affecting her work, what do you think?”

Deacon knew this question was coming eventually, he also knew it had nothing to do with the Railroad, Dez was just threatened by the amount of authority Whisper had, the pull she had on the people of the Commonwealth. It had not been lost on Deacon that if Whisper decided to go against the Railroad, the ‘synth’s only friend’ organisation would be buried even deeper underground before any of them had a chance to hear the news.

“Not at all Dez, she’s handed in missions quicker than some of us combined, and she was a General long before she was part of the Railroad.”

“So you don’t think she had divided loyalties?”

“Whisper? No way boss, she’s even got a few of her men looking into finding the Institute too. We’re all fighting for the same thing right? A safer Commonwealth?”

Dez’s nod was not convincing in the slightest. He should have gone into Diamond City with Whisper, she’d been right after all, it _was_ hard to look Dez in the eye. Deacon chose to keep himself away from the rest of them and decided to seek refuge in the escape tunnel. 

It wasn't even an escape tunnel anymore, hell it was more lively than the rest of HQ put together. The oil lamps Whisper had put up a few months back were still burning brightly, illuminating the dank, mould-infested tunnel that wasn’t so dank anymore.

The tiny chasm of water that she had purified a while ago now had a small bridge going across it and, not for the first time, Deacon wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or terrified that Whisper could accomplish all that and no one had heard her.

His mind was stuck on the same thing it had been thinking about for the past seven months that he didn’t even notice Glory walk through the tunnel. Until she sat down next to him.

“Where is she?”

“Diamond City, she needed to catch up with a few people.”

“What happened?”

Deacon chuckled bitterly, _what hasn’t happened?_

“In this particular instance? Remember a few weeks ago when Carrington sent us to meet Old Man Stockton?” Glory nodded. “Turns out the synth we spent all that time saving decided to have the memory wipe, he doesn’t remember anything she did for him.”

“Man, that’s rough.” Glory was used to that sort of thing, so was Deacon, it was part of the job to see synths erase every part of themselves. Glory had lost a lot of good friends that way and she still remembered the first time it happened, Whisper must be feeling like shit.

“Yeah, so naturally she doesn’t want to be anywhere near Dez right now.”

“Can’t say I blame her, don’t think I could look my boss in the eye after they lied to me.”

_She’s used to it_. Glory’s words had not helped, in fact they only twisted the knife in his side. The real reason he hadn’t told Whisper the truth yet, because he was terrified she’d leave.

 

* * * *

 

“So you and Deacon seem pretty close.”

Piper was about five whiskeys in, a little drunk and she had less control of her mouth than usual when she was drinking. There was no pen or paper anywhere and so she happily indulged her, knowing Piper probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

“We’ve been travelling together for a while now.”

Almost three months now by her count, even if they hadn’t been together every single day.

“That’s not what I mean,” she put down the glass in her hand. “You guys have got a natural chemistry thing goin’ on.” Piper moved her hand like a wave out in front of her and smiled, the biggest drink-infused smile she’d ever seen.

_That’s because we both lie through our teeth all the time._

“And I know Deacon thinks of it as more than travelling together. Seems to really care about you.”

Hancock had told her the same, but he also told her everyone did, so what the hell made Piper think he did too?

“How’d you mean?”

“I think we both know what I’m talking about,”

“For fuck sake Piper!” she exclaimed loud enough to draw the attention of the whole bar. She leant in towards Piper and lowered her voice. “Tell me everything you know.”

She seemed to be the only one who could get information out of Piper, and she really didn’t like that the fact wasn’t reciprocated. She wasn’t doing it because she disliked Piper, it was probably just the safer option not to tell a reporter too much.

“Where do you want me to start?” she downed the last of her whiskey - gesturing to Vadim for another - and hiccupped before continuing. “Guy’s in and out of Diamond City non-stop when it comes to the Institute but about eight months ago everything went quiet. People stopped being kidnapped, even begun to calm down, and Deacon stopped coming to the City. A month later, a certain vault-dweller comes into Diamond City and _bam_ ,” she slammed her hands down on the counter. “There he is. Like he never left.”

Hancock had essentially told her the same story. Hadn’t seen him in months…there he was the first day she walked inside. Some of it had to be a coincidence though, most of the time he was already there by the time she arrived and she doubted he was able to sneak past her every single time. They really were going to have to discuss this, in person this time, because they eventually had to go back to Sanctuary and she needed to find the opportunity to go back to the vault.

For the first time since she left.

Piper was going full throttle on the bottle of whiskey. The sixth glass was gone in a flash and even Vadim hesitated to pour her a seventh but he did regardless, after all _business is business_.

“Travis suddenly knows more about you than I do. And I sure as hell _know_ that you weren’t telling him. We both know how fucking difficult it is to get information from you. You should seriously think about going into politics.” 

She had reached the same conclusion too. Her mind was made up the moment Travis stopped talking about new exploits and instead rehashed old ones, over and over again. But at least he stopped talking about Billy, mainly because she’d threatened him but still. Deacon wouldn’t let anyone broadcast _anything_ about the Railroad.

“No idea what happened between then and now but I bet there were loads of times he showed you he cared.”

There were. 

He saved her life. Covered for her, a woman he barely knew, with Desdemona when she was recuperating in Goodneighbor. He took her to Vault 81 when she broke her Pip-Boy, even hugged her when she was upset…though he may have just been playing the part of big brother.So far he had kept his word never to mention her hair.

Then there was everything that happened at the Combat Zone. That was the moment their whole partnership took a turn, he stayed with her (even though she knew he didn’t want to) indulged her by letting her fight. Wiped the blood off her face, protected her against Tommy.

Then they went to Bunker Hill…okay yes she technically got herself out of that situation but regardless Deacon had come to find her and she still wasn’t sure how he did it. It wasn’t like he was Dogmeat and could just pick up her scent, though she did smile when he gave her wig back. Deacon seemed pretty invested in keeping her safe, and she still wasn’t sure why.

_Not going on blind faith_. She was afraid he was, was he subconsciously putting her on a pedestal, one she’d never reach? And why on earth was she caring?

“I’m not done you know,” she clicked her fingers in front of her face. Or at least tried to click her fingers, she was too drunk to get the grip. 

Pulling back to reality she looked at Piper, her eyebrows furrowed. She thought Piper was expressive when she was sober, but nothing quite matched ‘drunk-out-of-her-face’ Piper. Arms went out in every direction, so quickly there were a few moments she was sure Piper had grown several more.

“Oh yeah,” she smiled. “Down in Vault 81, when everything got a bit ‘serious’, he carried you to the gurney and he was the one who convinced Forsythe to split the cure. Said there was no way he was leaving you to die.”

_He saved my life…_ again. That was three times by her count. Deacon was the reason she got to Goodneighbor in time, the reason she didn’t have to fight her way through another wave of raiders, and now he was the reason she didn’t die inside the wrong vault.

“You were in and out of it for five days and he didn’t leave your side once.”

It certainly went a long way to explaining why she’d kept dreaming about him.

“Not to eat, drink or even pee. I had to force feed him just so he wouldn’t die of starvation. And he talked to you the entire time.”

“He did?” Deacon hadn’t told her any of this, though she didn’t exactly expect him to. They hadn’t spoken about anything since Piper and Nat left them.

“Yeah, you had full-blown conversations with him in your sleep,” laughed Piper, her mind going back to the more ridiculous things Blue asked over the course of five days.

_Oh…craaap_

She had originally assumed that she had dreamt her conversations with Deacon, he was a wonderful conversationalist so it wasn’t surprising her mind had thought of him but apparently her mind hadn’t thought about him at all. She panicked, having remembered exactly what they spoke about, she wondered just _how much_ wasn’t a dream, and how much had Piper and everyone else (but mostly Piper) heard.

“Wha-What did we talk about?”

“Nothing personal, don’t worry,” Piper shook her head, annoyed that such an opportunity never arose.

They did, but she was glad that Piper hadn’t heard it…maybe she actually had been dreaming those moments. She had to hope.

“You talked about him being bald a lot, called him a liar, kept trying to guess what colour his eyes were. Deacon indulged every weird thing that came out of your mouth, and he comforted you _a lot_ when you were freaking out.”

She remembered all of it, but she had freaked out about a lot of things, she _needed_ to know exactly what Piper knew.

“Freaking out about what?”

“Did he think Preston had replaced you? Why did Valentine seem do familiar? What if the Institute are trying to kill you? Are you really going to have to kill Kellogg?”

They had talked about _so_ much more than that, Deacon (for the first time) had been honest with her about himself. He _had_ been there the day she came out of the Vault, but that had to be a coincidence, though she never thought to ask him if she got out _because_ of him. 

_Barbara_. That had been the name of his wife, and now she went back over it, of course it wasn’t a dream - there was no way in hell her subconscious could guess her name. Even Hancock didn’t know it.

It went a way to explain why he seemed reluctant for them to split up, he was either worried she’d hurt herself (again) or worried that she’d tell Piper everything about him. By all rights, he had it coming, but Piper didn’t know everything about her so it seemed unfair.

And, _oh fuck_ , she told him about the dream she had, when she…when he…

She stared out in front of her, her eyes catching the blue moonshine jug of the shelf behind the bar. In her mind flashed the most perfect, beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen, she felt a pulse run through her entire body and she surged backwards off the stool.

Piper laughed drunkenly and stumbled to help her up, though in the end she got up on her own.

“I think you’ve had a little too much.”

“A, don’t be a hypocrite and B, I haven’t, I-that was just…”

He’d shown her his eyes. She wrapped her hands around the bar edge and stiffened in shock. His last line of defence…and he took them off. For her. Her heart fluttered and a tiny part of her wanted to cry.

She saw the lines of concern on his face, and she’d figured out a while ago that it was more than concern for her as a Railroad member.

Daisy was right, there was something different about her and she had a feeling that Deacon was partly responsible. It was hard not to get attached to the person who saved her life.

And just before that… _I kissed him…_ when she remembered why she knew Valentine.

_Nick._

 

* * * *

 

“Nick?” she called into the room. The synth detective looked up from his desk, nodded at her and then looked down at her feet.

“Haven’t gone to get Dogmeat yet then?”

“Not yet, got distracted in Vault 81.”

“I know, Piper wouldn’t stop talking about it. So, what can I do for you?”

“Actually, it’s what I can do for you. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Valentine was curious as she sat down in the chair opposite him. He had all of the old Nick’s memories, he knew he hadn’t seen this woman before, he was certain he’d remember if he did.

“Are you okay?” she asked. They were both quite sullen.

Valentine had sat there in silence as she into more detail about her husband’s empire, the connections he’d made throughout the country. Including one man that was connected to _him_.

“Jenny…”

“I-I never knew it…it’s nice.” 

She hated herself for telling him, as though she was partly responsible for that happened, just by association.

“I’m really sorry Nick,”

“What are you sorry for? You’re not the one who did this.”

She smiled at his affection and understanding.

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve been getting these…flashes, Memories of places I’ve never been. Things I’ve never seen. Memories of Nick’s. They’re not bad. They’re just…They’re just this inescapable reminder. That I’m not the person I think I am. That I’m not a person at all. I’m just a machine, pretending to be human. Having to juggle my memories and all Nick’s baggage, it makes things tough sometimes.”

“I know how you feel, Nick”

“I know you do doll, that’s why I’m telling you this. I know I’m in Nick’s debt. These memories, they’ve kept me alive. Nick was a hell of a cop, a guy with good instincts, and a good heart. I always counted myself lucky they didn’t load me up with some ex-con or whatever type might volunteer to let folks think with their grey matter.”

“But it’s thanks to Nick that I pass for human. Why I get to live cushy in Diamond City and every other synth is shot on sight. I know I got it good, but…my entire life I owe to Nick. Everything that makes me who I am - my judgment, my speech, hell, even my name - they’re his. And I can’t do a damn thing about it because without them…without them I’m nothing. A shell. All I want is a life where I have something I can call my own.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Word around town was that Eddie sealed himself inside a person shelter, located underneath the sub shop he used as a headquarters. The arrogant bastard wanted to cheat death. Live forever…so he could come out of that shelter someday, into this brave new world. Sound familiar? Only there was no cryo sleep for him. No, he invested his money in some sick, crazy radiation experiment.”

“He turned himself into a ghoul?”

It was like what happened to Hancock, he didn’t become a ghoul the same way everyone else did, his good looks came from taking one chem too many.

“Two hundred years before it was fashionable. Hell, he was probably the first one. And I’m convinced that he’s still locked inside that shelter.”

“We have to find him before he gets out. I’ll make you a deal, if you help me find Kellogg, I’ll help you find Winter. That way we can wipe two evils off the surface of the Commonwealth.”

“Well, if you don’t have a problem travelling with a rusted old tin can?”

“Of course not, I just need to check in with Piper, but I’ll be straight back. Okay?”

Valentine nodded and she left.

By the time she got back inside Publick Occurrences Piper was passed out on her bed, Nat was downstairs trying to teach Curie how to play poker.

“You know, your sister is going to kill you if she realises you know how to play that.”

“Well, I guess she’d have to kill you too, you were the one that taught me.”

She laughed and then turned her attention to the Miss Nanny.

“Curie, I want you to come to Sanctuary,” she announced. “It’s a settlement, under protection, and the people there are a lot nicer. No offence,” she added, glancing at Nat.

“Hey, none taken. This city is full of assholes.”

Piper only had herself to blame for Nat’s overuse of that word.

“People there will actually take the time to answer your questions, and they’ll help you. I promise.”

“I will be happy to follow you anywhere. It sounds divine, when do we part?”

“As soon as you’re ready, we just have to swing by and pick up my friend Nick.”

“Why would you ‘pick up’ your friend?”

“No, it just means we’re going to go see him so he can come with us.”

She had a feeling that the trip to Sanctuary was going to be a long one, with a lot of questions along the way.

 

* * * *

 

“Marcy, open the gate.” She ordered, frustration lacing every word. She was about two minutes away from shooting the thing down.

The gate was new, it definitely took her by surprise. She wanted nothing more than to crash on the nearest comfortable surface, the trip had been exhausting, for both her and Nick. Nat had been underselling it, Curie asked _thousands_ of questions, most of which were unanswerable because one didn’t exist. 

“Not a chance!” came the voice on the other side. “Just because you say you’re the General, doesn’t mean you are.”

Marcy did have a point, the job was essentially just a title, she hadn’t been truly associated with the Minutemen for a while now.

“My Lieutenant’s name is Preston Garvey.” Because the man refused to allow himself to be the General. “Our headquarters is Fort Independence.” When she heard no movement on the other side of the gate she decided to continue. “Your name is Marcy Long, you have a husband names Jun…” Nothing. “Fo- I saved your fucking life!”

She thanked a deity she didn’t necessarily believe in when she heard Sturges’ voice.

“Marcy, how many times have I gotta tell you, you can’t interrogate everyone that comes to the gate.”

“Well, this one is trying to tell me she’s in charge of the Minutemen.”

“General?”

“Yes!” She shouted. “Sturges, it’s me.”

“Wha-Marcy, open the goddamn gate.” 

There was a pause before the gate opened and she guessed that Marcy had tried to stop Sturges from opening it.

“Well, aint you a sight for sore eyes.” She smiled widely and happily allowed him to embrace her in a hug. Sturges was comfortable, maybe she could just…

“So, the gate is new,” she commented, not desperately hiding the annoyance she felt at being kept out of her own home. Sanctuary had belonged to her before the rest of them were even born.

“Yeah, sorry. Got kinda bored. Seemed like a good idea at the time, until Marcy started taking watch.”

“I like it.” She liked everything Sturges did around Sanctuary, the place would be lost without him.

“More strays?” He asked, changing the conversation when he spotted the two robots behind her. 

“Aren’t we all? Sturges, this is Nick Valentine, a detective from Diamond City.”

“Diamond City, eh?” He asked as they shook hands. “What brings a big city detective to a small settlement like ours?”

“Work, as always.”

“And Sturges, this is Curie.” She quickly continued, not wanting any more questions to be asked.

“Hello.”

“You couldn’t do me a favour and show them around the place? I want Curie settled in and I need Nick to meet Dogmeat.”

“Sure thing, General.” 

Sturges outstretched his arm behind him, guiding them further into the settlement. Valentine lingered for a moment.

“You okay, doll?”

“There’s one more thing I need to find outside the Vault before we take Dogmeat up there.”

“You know, I do wander into Goodneighbor every now and then…and I bet you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“If I didn’t love John so much, I’d kill him.”

Valentine chuckled and rushed to catch up with the other two, leaving her alone at the edge of the bridge. She ran left, behind the houses and bushes, around to the path that led to the vault. 

She was about halfway up when her feet suddenly slowed down, before the rest of her matched the sudden descent and she almost tripped.

_We have to do this._ She stared down at her feet, willing them to move faster. She just wanted to find what she came for and walk away. Why did her heart have to get involved?

Every one of her personalities had something to do with it. Clara was scared something bad would happen, Alice was worried she wouldn’t find anything and Nora was terrified to be near the tomb that contained her dead husband. 

She was stuck in a flashback of her own life, the last time she’d travelled up the path, the dozens of people running past. Nathaniel trailing behind her with Shaun in his arms.

_I should have just shot him anyway_ , she thought and Nora gasped inside her head.

Deacon wouldn’t have been close, she hadn’t seen him and he was definitely the sort of person who could hide in plain sight. She stood on the platform and looked out at the world in front of her, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and took herself back.

There was screaming, everyone confused and they stared ahead of them and watched the world turn to fire. She saw the second the world ended. 

Behind her - that’s the only place he could have been. The trees were on higher ground, giving him both coverage and a better vantage point. He would have hidden behind one of the closer trees, one of the trees not so bunch up with the rest, because he would be getting off on the idea of getting caught.

Could have saved a lot of time if she had.

She noticed the weird marking first, the chalkboard in HQ flashed in front of her eyes. It was an ‘ally’ symbol. Even from the beginning he believed in her, thought she’d do the Railroad some good - just like Preston had thought with the Minutemen - he really had put her on a pedestal. And she was on it long before she even knew him.

She sat on the ground, her arms folded on her knees, and she let her mind wander back over everything that had happened in the last fortnight. She knew MacCready was in her corner, but it had taken them both a while to trust each other, but Deacon seemed to trust her almost immediately. For a man who told lies for a living he should know she wasn’t the kind of person to be trusted. Not really. 

Of course she would never tell anyone what she knew about him, though she’d apparently told _him_ what she knew. His secrets were safe with her, and she knew hers were safe with him. For all their negative points, liars really are the best people to tell your secrets to.

It was the first time that she truly acknowledge that she’d travelled without him, it had been a while and in the back of her mind she wondered why she hadn’t thought about going back for him. At the time she was too busy focusing on Valentine to think about anyone else, and the detective seemed to know more about Kellogg than anyone. The man worked for the Institute and not even the Railroad mentioned him.

She found herself wanting him there, wanted him to see what she made out of the village she once hated. And he’d obviously been here before and she put her caps on Codsworth even knowing his name.

With a nice little extra, courtesy of Vault 81, she was able to hack into Tom’s terminal through her Pip-Boy, knowing that Deacon liked to see what new theories the genius had come up with.

 

* * * *

 

“Deacon?” asked Tom.

He was in the middle of pleasant chitchat with Glory when Tom walked through the tunnel, scratch the top of his helmet, his face painted with confusion.

“What’s up?” he smiled.

“Have you been on my terminal again?”

“Not for at least a few days, why?”

“Because there’s a weird message on there, it was super hard to decrypt too.”

“What’d it say?” Deacon was now intrigued.

“Something about Death Bunnies…”

Deacon, understanding it immediately, was up on his feet, so fast he knocked Glory slightly.

“No human has reflexes like that,” she called after him.

“Show it to me.” He instructed Tom when they reached his terminal.

Tom tapped at a few keys. “Here.”

It took Deacon less than a second to read the screen and he was suddenly bolting in the other direction, past Glory and through the door to the escape tunnel.

“Rude.” Commented Glory as she walked into the war room, curious as to what had got him so excited. “What was that about?”

“Don’t ask me. I don’t know what the hell it means.”

Glory leant forward and read the terminal herself.

“‘Death Bunnies will find Sanctuary in the North.’ What the fuck?”

 

* * * *

 

“So, find what you were looking for?” asked Valentine.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Looks like Piper owes me fifty caps,” he chortled.

“You put a _bet_ on it?” she asked in shock.

“Yeah, Hancock, Piper and myself. Piper didn't think he’d go that far.”

“I hate all of you right now.” She stated, her arms folded over her chest.

“Doll, you’re the most exciting thing to happen to the Commonwealth since people first discovered the Institute. Hate us all you like, it won’t stop any of us from talking about you.”

“Speaking of Deacon, I sent him a message to meet us here. I hope you don’t mind, but I think tracking him down might be a win for the Railroad, and Desdemona will be pissed if I don’t involve them somehow.”

“Has no one told you the upsides to being a leader? You _can_ pull rank on this one.”

“I know, I don’t want to though, not unless I absolutely have to. So far, from what I’ve seen, the Railroad doesn’t really interfere with the Minutemen and vice versa.”

“It’s your call, but just remember, it’s there if you need it.”

She always knew that tracking Kellogg from Vault 111 was risky, it had been over a decade since he was outside it. Dogmeat picked up the scent every now and then, before it disappeared a few feet later. After a few more hours of trying, and failing, when the sun was setting beyond the horizon, she finally gave up.

“It’s alright doll, we’ll take him back to Diamond City and see if we can pick it up from there.” Valentine reassured her.

“I hope so Nick, I don’t want to have to come this far just to fail again. I can’t fail this time, I just can’t.”

“I understand. Let’s just get some rest. We’ll wait for Deacon to turn up and then we’ll head back to Diamond City together.”

It was just another hurdle, every step forward felt like two steps back and in that moment she needed her best friend, but for the life of her she couldn’t find him anywhere.

Nick and Curie slept in one of the many guest rooms whilst, for the first time, she got to sleep in her treehouse. The building on her left had only been half built the last time she was here, now it towered several stories and had a wooden bridge that attached itself to one side of her house.

She had two ways of getting up, use the stairs that were stashed nearby or climb up the rope. Raiders were basically savages, they wouldn’t think to climb something.

Sturges had followed her plans to the last detail. The wood wrapped around the tree beautifully, lanterns hung off almost every available branch and candles scattered the edges of the floor. A small kitchen and seating area took up the first floor, plus a hidden bathroom behind the flower pot and her bedroom made up the top floor.

There was a gap in the wall that led to the bridge she had spotted before and, despite being exhausted, her curiosity got the better of her. From the centre of the bridge she could see MacCready’s house, there were no lights on and a part of her couldn’t help but worry, even though she knew he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

She hadn’t been told about this particular add-on, they must have remembered her tendency to pick up everything. The building itself was bare, just waiting for her to fill it. The top floor had a chemistry station and several storage containers.

On the floor below were even more containers, mannequins shattered all around and several spotlights that shone onto empty shelves. There were a lot of trunks, in a lot of settlements, that needed to be cleared out.

Underneath that were several power stations, empty power armour shells in each. She was never one for power armour, they knew that, but someone (she was assuming Sturges) had moved the one she kept in Red Rocket - the one that saved her life - and brought it down here. She knew what the building was, their way of saying thank you. Thank you for saving their lives, thank you for giving them somewhere to go.

For once, it was nice to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on in this chapter so I apologise. I originally didn't write this with Valentine and Curie going to Sanctuary but I couldn't resist the whole 'Death Bunnies will find Sanctuary in the North.’ bit lol.
> 
> I HAD (yes, had) to go indepth with her treehouse because, before mods came to console, I worked very hard to create a treehouse in Sanctuary (though mods did kinda ruin it in the end...meh)
> 
> It took me longer to find a song for this chapter than it did to actually write the thing. I don't think there is a perfect song for it but I'm kind of stuck on the title because both Whisper and Deacon seem to like getting themselves hurt (they just don't know it yet)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for being here with me and I hope you liked it =D xx


	31. Save Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon didn't learn the first time, when it came to Whisper - it was never what he wanted it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More flashbacks, more angst, more fluff...more words!!
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Save Yourself - My Darkest Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TAXeUN6gd4))

_Can one desire too much of a good thing?_

 

_She stared down in disbelief at the baby in her arms, if it wasn’t a living thing she would have dropped in shock. Even Nora was finding this one difficult to deal with._

_He wouldn’t do this…_

_He did._

_Not directly, Nathaniel was never one for getting his hands dirty, the less evidence that pointed at him the better, he just didn’t realise the amount she already had against him. It was the last straw. Everything else she could play blind to, be the ignorant housewife Nora was supposed to be…but this, this was too cruel even for Nathaniel._

_He has to die._

_In her head Nora gasped but even she had to admit that it wasn’t something she could live with. Deep down knowing that his father might be out there looking for him, or any other relative he might have._

_We have to do something._

_For once the two of them agreed on something._

_Despite the order, the purpose of the mission, none of that mattered. She had to save him from a life full of lies and misery. Nathaniel proved he wasn’t worth saving._

_They set a plan in motion. The gun had been buried when she first stepped foot in Sanctuary Hills. She’d drugged Nathaniel plenty of times, spiking his alcohol because she knew he got violent when he was drunk. They would have to have sex tonight, that was a given, both of them elated at the chance to be a ‘real’ family, after so long together she got used to his touch. She didn’t convulse anymore, didn’t shiver with disgust, didn’t react the way she really felt. Sometimes it was difficult to figure out what disgusted her more, Nathaniel touching her or the fact that Nora actually liked it._

_Of course she did, Nora’s whole purpose was to love everything about him._

_She wanted to run out of the door, Shaun still in her hands, when he took her around his new room._

_He shouldn’t have a new anything._

_The crib was new, not brand new and that was when she first suspected Nathaniel had stolen the furniture too. After all, why pay for something he can just take? Love radiated from every stuffed toy, given the mobile that hung over his crib._

_Nora slipped for a moment, loving the idea of being a mother but was quickly reminded why she was suddenly one. She couldn’t believe he would do this._

_She walked out of the room, holding Shaun a little closer to her chest and vowed not to step foot inside again._

 

* * * *

 

Deacon was taking a leaf out of Whisper’s book and running faster than he thought possible. He ignored the burning in his legs, the fact that his feet were probably being. There were a lot of factors in play.

As an agent he wanted to be there if Dogmeat picked up the scent, Kellogg had been on their list for a while now. The Death Bunny in him just wanted to catch up with his partner, possibly ask her how the hell she got there so damn quickly. Another wanted to make sure she was okay, in case something happened in Diamond City that made her run to Sanctuary.

The rest of him was screaming, because, _shit,_ she was in Sanctuary, she was with Dogmeat and, _motherfucker,_ Vault 111 was less than five hundred miles away and, _oh my god,_ he _had_ to tell her before she went running off to track Kellogg.

She was waiting for him at the edge, he was walking casually across the bridge but she knew that he had probably just stopped running as he got to the corner, because there was no way he walked to get to Sanctuary _that_ fast.

This was the first time she’d seen him since finding out her dreams weren’t dreams at all and, not for the first time, she wasn’t sure how to act around him.

Did she pretend that she didn't know? After all, that was what they usually did, and Deacon certainly hadn’t given any indication that he knew. It finally seemed that Deacon was keeping things he knew about her to himself.

“Hey,” he smiled in his usual way. A feeling shot through her, one she hadn’t experienced since the Combat Zone. She liked his voice, and his smile seemed to hit every nerve in her body.

She felt the sudden urge to lunge herself at him, rip off his sunglasses and tell him he never had to worry about anything, ever again.

She had to quickly tell herself that she only felt that way because she knew he saved her life. She was not a damsel in distress and she refused to allow herself to give in to whatever she was feeling. It was fleeting, it would pass soon.

Deep down she knew that wasn’t true, this feeling had been brewing for a while now and as much as she had tried to ignore it, the universe kept throwing them together, putting them in situations where their relationship would change. It was like the universe was rewarding her, after everything it had put her through.

Was Deacon her chance to finally find happiness?

She had to admit, she felt safe around him, safer than she did with Hancock or MacCready, and their personalities were so similar it was terrifying. Deacon was just the male equivalent of her.

She had planned for the word ‘hi’ to leave her, but a weird strangled noise left her instead. She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, she was more levelheaded than that. Like a bloody lovestruck teenager. 

She cleared her throat.

“I want to show you something.”

In truth, she wanted MacCready to be with her, he’d already seen inside, she just wanted to put some things into context, but she still couldn’t find him and she had _looked_. Vault 111 had been a total bust and by the time Deacon crossed the bridge she was just desperate to show someone, someone who would understand.

She didn’t look at him, she didn’t wait for him to respond before walking away, because she knew he’d follow. 

Deacon was almost reluctant to follow, wondering where she was leading him, possibly to the Vault, but of course his feet were quick to walk after her.

Sanctuary sure had changed since he’d last been there, not a wrecked house in sight, no bloatflies 

making home inside the only intact ones. There were real life people littering the grounds, most on their knees picking and planting. 

It was the first time he really got to see what Whisper had done for the Commonwealth, what she had done for the people. He knew he’d made the right decision about her, Whisper really was everything the Commonwealth needed.

Whisper hadn’t said a word to him, or to anyone they walked past, she turned left, towards the house that that Mr Handy was usually floating by and he saw her pause when she went to unlock the door. Deacon took a quick glance around, there were people coming in and out of house everywhere, but this particular house was locked, and people definitely seemed to be avoiding it, as if it was some kind of bad omen.

It hadn’t been as looked after as the other houses, if Deacon’s memory was correct (it usually was) this was one of the few houses that actually survived the end of the world. The inside was dusty, and Deacon felt like he was looking back in time, it was as if no one had stepped inside in two hundred years. 

She stopped dead when she reached the door. The door which led to the room that reminded her of her failure to protect him. Her hand gripped the doorknob and she willed her wrist to turn

She hadn’t stepped inside since she was last in Sanctuary, and before that it had been over two-hundred years. Going inside for the second time wasn’t any better than the first and she’d never invited someone inside before. The whole house just reminded of her of a life she shouldn’t have led, and the small room just screamed the life Shaun _should_ have had without either of them.

She walked around the room, it was filled with vintage teddy bears, all the toys a kid could wish for and there in the corner, like a big giant blue elephant in the room, was a crib that had seen better days. And then it hit him, this was the kid’s room. She picked up a book for the table before placing it back down. Everything in this room was useless now. 

_Oh my god I can’t believe she’s showing me this. Please don’t show me this._ The guilt of his new secret weighed heavily on his heart enough as it was. She brought him here to torture him, she just didn’t realise.

“It must have been weird, having a baby suddenly sleeping in the house.” _Fuck_ , what did he say in a situation like this? Because as much as he tried to avoid the elephant in the room, he knew he couldn’t lie to her if she asked him outright.

“He never even got to spend the night…” her fingers ran across the edge of the crib, her voice heavy with sadness. She didn’t want him to, but she didn’t want _this_ to happen either. “I just wanted to save him.”

She wasn’t really talking to him when she said it, it was more for the air and herself. He’d never felt so awkward in his entire life, even after that woman in the bar that one time turned out to have a dick. 

Nope…that was child’s play compared to this.

“When Nathaniel brought him home I knew what he’d done…I knew everything he did.” She sat down on the nearby chair, her hand and gaze on the crib as she spoke. She wanted him to hear it but it was easier to pretend he wasn’t there if she didn’t look at him. She took a deep breath and continued. “Nathaniel got one of his men to take out a rival. He shot him in the spine, his wife through the head and brought the baby…to me. The day Nathaniel put him in my arms, all of this,” she gestured around the room, “was brought in too. I told him I couldn’t have kids and he said this was our chance.”

She hadn’t even told MacCready that.

She shuddered at the memory. Deacon had knelt down beside her by now, his hand ghosted hesitantly over the hand not on the crib before he rested it on top. 

_Nope, still fucking awkward._

Why couldn’t she be telling this story to MacCready? The one time he wished the mercenary was there.

“I couldn’t let this innocent boy become like him. For the first time in my life I refused to finish a mission.” Her fingers spread underneath his and she curled his fingers around hers. They’d never held hands before, Deacon was desperately trying not to read more into it, he was a lifeline - nothing more. “I was supposed to flip him…you know convince him to turn over evidence rather than get executed. But I didn’t care, I was going to kill him, take the kid and run. I wanted to track down his family, they deserved to know he was still alive. But none of that happened…” 

Silence filled the room. She was quickly reminded why she hated stepping foot inside. She knew there were tears streaming down her face, she was just glad Deacon couldn’t see it. 

“You probably think I’m silly right? Caring so much for a kid that’s not even mine.” 

He didn’t think it was silly, hell the Railroad acted like over-protective parents to their synth babies.

“I know you think I came back here to get Dogmeat but…it’s more than that. I _hate_ myself for getting distracted.” 

_I know. I hate myself for letting you._

“The first thing I wanted to do was find the man who took him…but as soon as Nick told me he lived in Diamond City…I couldn’t deal. Everything got too real for one day, so when Nat begged me to take her to a vault I was…so _fucking_ relieved.”

 

He would never imagine Whisper as one to run away. Holy fuck he wanted to run away right now. She was confiding in him about a baby that wasn’t a baby anymore, if anything was going to break her…

_She probably won’t find him. The odds are kinda stacked against her._

That was true enough but Deacon knew that if anyone could get what they wanted, it was her. She always did.

“I’m going to find him, I don’t care how long it takes Deacon…I need to save him.”

_What if you can’t save him?_ No one had heard anything about Kellogg and a baby again. Deacon couldn’t believe no one had flagged it to the Railroad when Kellogg moved into Diamond City. But if the kid was alive then he was over sixty years old. If he was a bad guy then he would be pretty stubborn about changing now. He’d been quiet for too long, she was looking at him. At least he thought so, she was definitely facing him.

“Please don’t tell anyone in the Railroad about this.” She spoke so quietly he barely heard her. “Not everyone knows what really brought me to the Commonwealth.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.” _Even the ones you don’t know about yet_.

The universe was literally slapping him in the face, telling him to just fucking _tell her_.

Whisper was quick to leave, the thick guilt in the air was suffocating the both of them and Deacon welcomed the fresh air when they stepped outside.

“Ahh, Master Deacon, it’s been a while.” Codsworth floated by and she smiled.

_Knew it_.

“Oh Mum, it’s a pleasure to see you. It’s been too long, you know.”

When Deacon heard the Mr Handy call her mum a sudden thought came to him. _I wonder if Codsworth knows her name_.

“I do Codsworth, and I’m sorry, but I’m one step closer to finding Shaun.”

“Really? That’s marvellous, I always said you could do it.”

Deacon didn’t think he’d ever seen a robot express happiness before, it definitely took him by surprise.

“Codsworth? You haven’t seen RJ anywhere, have you?”

“He has gone to Starlight Drive-In to oversee some sort of protect going on there. He and Miss Cait left a few days ago.”

“Really?” The shock in her voice surprised even her.

“Oh yes, they’ve become quite close since they’ve been in Sanctuary. If you’ll excuse me Mum, Master Deacon, I must start preparing for dinner.”

“S-sure Codsworth.” She was too busy looking down at her hands to see him float away. She felt something, she just didn’t know what it was.

Deacon saw the imaginary knife stab her in the back at Codsworth’s announcement and he knew that, somewhere down the line, this was his fault too.

“Are you okay?”

_What a stupid question to ask her._

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

_She’s a bloody synth._ “It’s called jealousy.”

“Why?” she asked the air. Her and MacCready were never like that, never possessive over each other. She had expected the two of them to grow close, she sent Cait specifically to him for that exact reason, so why on earth was she jealous?

It might have had to do something with the fact that MacCready had been the only person she’d had sex with since walking out onto the Commonwealth. Maybe it was because their roles had suddenly reversed, MacCready’s life was moving forward and she was stuck in a rut. She needed Deacon to help pull her out of it.

“How do I deal with it?”

“Well, right now, what do you feel like doing?”

Deacon actually saw the moment the idea popped into her head.

“I’ll be right back, make yourself at home. Nick’s in the common house,” she shouted back as she ran off into the distance.

 

* * * *

 

“Are you ever going to stop following her?” Nick asked curiously.

“Don’t know what you mean.” Deacon replied casually as he sat down next to Valentine.

“Of course you don’t.” Nick took another drag of his cigarette.

“You know, I’ve never actually asked. Do you actually feel the benefit of smoking?” For five-seconds Deacon needed to be away from everything Whisper related, which, in Sanctuary, was rather difficult.

“Not exactly, passes the time and I guess the real Nick was a smoker, habit I got I suppose.”

“About that, I was…kind of _there_ when she remembered.”

“Of course you were.” Nick took a final drag and stubbed his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray. “A piece of friendly advice, be _real_ careful with her, a lot of people are going to want to hang you up by your dick if something happens to her under your watch.”

“‘ _My watch’_? Whisper is a total badass all on her own, pretty sure she look after herself.”

“Mmm…”

“What?” Deacon relented, he knew he had to talk about Whisper, because it was the last thing he wanted to do and it was just another punishment. “What does ‘mmm’ mean?”

“Even the strongest person can shatter when enough is thrown at them.”

This was exactly why he didn’t want to talk about Whisper.

“It took her almost five months to work up the courage to come to my office, and when she finally does walk through the door she brings _you_ with her. A girl like her doesn’t tell her past to just _anyone_.”

Deacon knew that, he knew how honoured he felt amongst all the guilt and lies, though technically speaking he hadn’t lied, he just hadn’t told her anything. In his defence, Whisper hadn’t _asked_ him anything either.

“And as far as Hancock is concerned, you _are_ responsible for her, that’s _why_ I’m telling you to be careful. Dogmeat couldn’t get Kellogg’s scent by the vault, eventually we’re going to have to go back to the City. It’s going to be messy.”

Messier than any of them, besides Deacon, realised.

An hour had past and he was deep in conversation with Valentine (thankfully they’d moved onto a different topic) when he saw Whisper again. She ran up to them, a little breathless, and (weirdly) covered in what looked like paint.

Less than five-seconds later a group of kids came running past, all of them covered in different coloured paint.

“Get it out of your system?” Deacon asked, the corners of his mouth twitching because, evidently, Whisper had chosen childish fun over killing something. He was rubbing off on her after all.

“Yeah, thanks.” She smiled underneath her bandana. Childish did not sum up what she, and most of the neighbourhood kids, had done. She didn’t know who was going to be more pissed off, MacCready or Sturges.

Of course she had made sure there was enough house paint to cover up the damage, still it would have been nice to see the look on MacCready’s face.

“I guess you’ll be wanting to get back?” she asked, looking at Nick.

“Listen doll, if there’s something you wanna do around here, go ahead. I haven’t got anywhere else to be, we got a deal right?”

She nodded.

“You don’t mind, do you?” She turned to acknowledge Deacon.

Deacon shrugged and shook his head because right then, he wanted to give her everything she wanted. It was the least he could do.

 

* * * *

 

“So the guy in the yellow trench coat, he’s a little intense isn’t he? Who is he?” It was mid afternoon by the time Deacon left the common house, more and more people had floated by, all of them interested by the new arrival.

“You mean, Sam?” She was annoyed that he was still wearing the coat, she’d found him a new suit months ago. “You’d be pretty annoyed too if you’d been wearing the same outfit for two-hundred plus years.”

“I thought he was living in Goodneighbor?”

Deacon had heard the name before but he never saw him.

“He was. When I first stayed at the Rexford I ran into him, he was really angry. We both were.” She gaze turned to the ghoul in the yellow trench coat as he picked crops with a content smile on his face. “He worked for Vault-Tec but when the world ended he wasn’t allowed in the vault, I remember his face as I ran past him. In a way, turning ghoul probably saved his life. They never told him what they were doing, if he had got in…he might have died along with the rest of them.”

“So why is he here now?”

“He needed a distraction and helping in Sanctuary seemed to calm him down. I’m the only non-ghoul he knows from the Old World, he likes talking about it a lot.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because he says you’re perfect?”

“He said it once!” And he hadn’t meant it in a nice way. “And how do you even know about that?”

“ _Once_? Maybe to your face.” In the ten minutes Deacon had spent with the ghoul, he had referred to her as ‘perfect’ at least fifteen times. “And he’s not even _seen_ your face.”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“He tells everyone that will listen how perfectly preserved you are, how he knew you before the bombs. You kept your promise to come back and visit him. And why on earth would you show that man your face?”

“Because I always walk around in a pair of sunglasses and a bandana wrapped around my face. I was a housewife, remember?”

“So, he’s seen your face?”

“Why does it matter? You’ve seen it too.”

_Twice now, and you still haven’t said anything about it._

Another person to add to the list of people who got to see her face before he did, another one that had been put under her spell, and Deacon was right there with all of them.

Hancock was right, he _was_ responsible for her. It was a ridiculous amount of pressure to put on a person, especially when Deacon couldn’t even be responsible for himself.

“I’m just thinking tactically, the more people that know what you look like, the more chance you have of being recognised.”

“True. But only people I trust have seen it.”

The knife in his side wedged in a little further, it was the first time she told him she trusted him.

“Did you ever get around to reading my recall code?”

“Nope,” she shrugged. “In fact,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small piece of paper, it was still as neatly folded as it was when he gave it to her, “here, you can have it back.”

“You didn’t read it?” He asked, taking it back. Just when he though her curiosity would get the better of her.

“If it says what I think it does, I don’t need to. I already know I can’t trust everybody, but that doesn't

mean you can’t trust _anybody._ ”

She had a point, but so did Deacon. His point was that she couldn’t trust _him_.

“There aren’t any lessons you can teach me that I don’t already know…not when it comes to stuff like this.”

In other departments, sure, Deacon was teaching her plenty.

“Technically speaking, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“Some of that doesn’t count, you know?” He was careful not to state the whole ‘being frozen’ thing out loud.

“I’m older than you, my word is law.”

Even underneath her bandana he could tell she was smiling.

“Aye, aye Captain.”

“That’s _General_ to you, civilian.” She laughed. 

“So, how are you holding up? I mean, with the whole MacCready thing?”

Once again she was lost for words around this man, she had a perfect memory, not _once_ had she said his name in front of Deacon, and she was sure no one else had either. She always referred to him as RJ, Deacon had seen them travelling together, that was obvious now she knew he had been everywhere the two of them had been. How did he know who he already was?

“Okay, considering I don’t really understand why I felt that way in the first place. We’ve never been anything serious,” and she was sure it felt like she was trying to comfort him. “I’d just stepped out into the world…” _I know, I was there._ “For the first time in my life I needed someone at my back. Literally. Over time, I learnt to trust him.”

“Whisp…” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I know, I know. I don’t tell him _everything_ but he’s the one person I’m truly honest with.”

Well that stung a little. Whisper spoke a lot of bullshit, so did he, but he knew a lot about her, she knew a lot about him too evidently. Not every word out of her mouth had been a lie, had it?

“So he knows all your dirty little secrets?” He would have to slyly interrogate the mercenary when he next saw him. He probably knew her name too.

“Pfft. The only one I tell my secrets to is Dogmeat.” _The dog?_ Well that interrogation would skew a little differently. Did he have time to learn to speak ‘dog’? He could always convince Tinker Tom to build some sort of translation device that could be attached to Dogmeat’s collar. 

She wanted to get off the subject of MacCready, thinking about it only made her dwell on how she felt. It didn’t matter how she felt, it wasn’t going to change anything.

“I hope they didn’t overwhelm you too much.”

She knew what the people in her settlements were like, blood thirst vultures - MacCready had described them as once. It was natural that they were curious about the mysterious woman whom changed their lives, The people who knew her were safely tucked up in Sanctuary, only the strong willed survived this settlement.

“It was intense, kinda like being interrogated by the Brotherhood of Steel, or like anally probed.” He respected her desire to change the subject, he was happy to get off the topic himself, and it was the least he could do.

Summed them up perfectly in her opinion.

“But we got through it. They sure do like you.”

“I think it crossed over into obsession a while ago.” Right around the time she liberated Castle, her assumption was that MacCready had come back and _blabbed_ about the whole thing. It was probably the first moment the people actually _believed_ in the Minutemen.

Deacon knew how they felt, he was right there with them, but for entirely different reasons. Valentine had been right, his presence was probably doing more harm than good. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea that he went back to Diamond City with them.

“Listen,” his hand rubbed the back of his neck, and he hoped she thought he was guilty about what he was about to tell her. “I picked up a dead drop on the way here.”

It was a lie, she had to know it was too, because even Whisper must have suspected that he ran the whole way.

“Oh, okay…did, did you want us to go now?”

“No, no, y-you should go with Nick.” The words burned as he spoke, it hurt to say and it sucked even more because it was true. She _should_ go with Valentine, and get herself as far away from him as humanly possible.

He was poison, a disease that seeped into people like the radiation she’d managed to avoid so far. He knew there was no going back, not after everything they’d been through, but he couldn’t let it go further.

She knew he was lying, and although a part of her was upset, she couldn’t blame him, Sanctuary was overwhelming to _everyone_ when they first come here. They had Sturges, and that mechanic could do things others just couldn’t. The fact he didn’t want to travel with her definitely confused her, then she figured he was doing it because he needed to get out _quickly_ and she wasn’t quite ready yet.

“Sure, are you gonna be okay? You know how lost you get without me.” She joked, internally knowing that it was the complete reverse.

“I’ll be fine.”

He patted her on the shoulder and walked away before she completely registered his response. Something was wrong. Still, she respected his need to be alone and watched as he walked towards the gate, wondering what was suddenly the matter.

Despite smoking being allowed in the common house Nick had chosen the moment the gate closed, Deacon on the other side, to step out and light a cigarette. She immediately knew he had something to do with Deacon’s sudden mood change, which meant, somewhere down the line, Hancock was responsible.

“What did he make you say?”

“Nothing, doll. But I had to warn him about how protective the man is of you.”

“People need to stop being so damn protective of me. I _need_ the Railroad right now, John needs to stop getting in the middle.” Nick pulled a face and she knew what he was about to say. “I know, he does it because he ‘cares’ about me, which I appreciate but that man needs to start taking care of himself. I survived on my own long before I met any of you, I don’t need people to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

She was making a point to not shout, and truly express how irritated she was. The last thing she needed was an audience, and a rumour that would spread quicker than a sonic boom.

“Don’t shoot the messenger doll,” advised a calm Nick.

“I’m not angry at you, _believe me,_ I do not blame you in the slightest. Why the hell is everyone so terrified of John?”

“Some people are terrified, the rest of us just respect him. He’s done a lot for me, some real big favours. He’s not actually going to do anything to the kid, he just uses the fact the kid is scared of him.”

“I swear, when we get back from killing Kellogg the first thing I’m going to do is kick that man right in his dick.”

“Whatever you need to do. Now, is there anything else or are you ready to do this?”

“I’m ready.” She breathed. There was no point putting it off any longer, Deacon wasn’t coming with her, it would be just her and Nick. They were going to be fine…just _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all remember what fine means right?
> 
> We're back in the realm of prewritten stuff, so there's a lot I wanted to happen between Deacon and Whisper in Sanctuary, and I don't really plan for them to be there too many times (I'm sure that'll turn out to be a lie).
> 
> I had a mini breakdown last week and my biggest way of coping with it was to write, so updates might be quick...though sometimes I feel that updating too quick leaves out the suspense. 
> 
> As always, thanks for being here. I love you all xx


	32. Make A Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper finally finds out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Make A Move - Icon For Hire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_S9VvJM1PI))

_You open the closest, it’s just a closet. You can never find the monster that hides inside. Not until it jumps out at you._

 

It always amazed Glory, how people still try to bullshit you even though they know you know they’re full of crap. Deacon was no exception, in fact Deacon was probably the person that started the rule.

She was just glad she saw him before anyone else did. Glory was on her feet and dragging him back out of the escape tunnel door, by the sleeve of his t-shirt, before he’d even stepped all the way through.

“Still wanna tell me you’re fine?” She asked as she threw him against the wall. The last thing she expected was for him to return with a face like that, considering the smile he was wearing when he left. Glory especially didn’t expect him to return alone.

Deacon didn’t want to be there, he didn’t, he _wanted_ to be with Whisper, wanted to be present when Kellogg died, because, _oh my god_ , Dez would love him even more for that, but he couldn’t and the Railroad was the only family he knew. He had nowhere else to go.

Finally, feeling the need to give up, Deacon slid down the wall until he was sat on the floor. Glory immediately copied him and sat across from him, her foot pressed against the door to stop anyone walking through.

“So, did you…’find Sanctuary in the North’?” she quoted.

“Not exactly.” It was true, he had found a place _called_ Sanctuary north of HQ, but he hadn’t found somewhere he could feel safe. He had a feeling he would never find peace.

“Where is she?”

“On her way to find a mercenary I imagine.”

Glory looked at him, confused.

“Works for the Institute.”

“So why the fuck are you not with her?”

Deacon resisted the urge to bring his knees to his chest and comfort himself. It would not do well for his image. It was bad enough Glory was there, but holy crap, he had to talk to _someone_ because, as per usual, the voices didn’t help.

He hadn’t paid them much attention lately, he never really did when he was around Whisper. He was sure they were still there, always would be, but they were easier to ignore when she was around. Now, being around her, he just felt all the guilt he wasn’t sure he should be carrying.

He could pretend all he wanted that it was probably better for _her_ that he wasn’t there when she found out, but he knew the truth. He was a coward and ran away, just when she told him she trusted him. He was the last person anyone should trust.

“Do you remember me telling you that story about Kellogg and Vault 111?” Deacon relented, just enough. 

Glory nodded. Like he said, _everyone_ knew it.

He motioned for her to come closer. She obliged and moved so he could whisper in her ear. She listened as he told her everything that had happened to him since the day he took a trip to Vault 111 - the one place Dez told him _not_ to go, so naturally he did.

Whilst shocked, she couldn’t say she was surprised. She suspected he’d been following her for a while, that he had been purposely increasing the volume on the radio (and that he stopped doing it once that DC radio host stopped talking about it), but not even she thought Deacon would go that far.

“So she’s-“

“Yeah.”

“Before the-“

“Yep.”

“ _Fuck_.” No wonder Whisper kept her shit to herself.

“Does she-?”

“No, but she’s about to.” 

If he knew Whisper, and he liked to think he did, she would be in Diamond City already, a few hours from now she would find out the truth, because she’d get the truth out of Kellogg, and then…Deacon wasn’t sure what she would do, if he would ever see her again.

“Deacon, why the fuck did you never tell her any of this?” 

“It’s hard to keep track or what she does and doesn’t know. She knows things I’ve never told _anyone_. I’m a little cloudy on what she knows _I_ know about her.”

There was a fine line between tailing someone and obsessing over them. Glory suspected that Deacon had been stood on the wrong side of the line the second Whisper emerged out of the vault.

The universe was nice like that, shitting over people who had it tough enough as it was, Deacon just _happened_ to be there the second she woke up. Whisper just _happened_ to be looking for the exact mercenary they’d been wanting to find, not Dez as such, but everyone else certainly. 

You can’t thrust two damaged people together and expect it to end well.

“The Railroad needs her right now.”

Glory knew Deacon needed her too. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet, hell Deacon barely admitted anything to himself.

“She wants to find the Institute, she’s not going to leave.”

More unnecessary pressure. Deacon made himself solely responsible for everything that happened to her, and none of it was really his fault. He’d just been in the wrong place and the wrong time, or the right, depending on how you looked at it.

 

* * * *

 

The moment Dogmeat had found the entrance her heart sank when she realised the main entrance was blocked off. But it was a pre-war fort, all military bases had a roof access. She climbed the scaffolding like a monkey, swinging and jumping until she reached the top. She stood at the hatch and waited for Nick to catch up.

She still couldn’t understand why Deacon was so quick to leave, despite being threatened by Hancock, finding Kellogg was one step closer to finding the Institute and it was almost as important to the Railroad as it was to her.

She was also still confused by the fact she was doing it with Nick, sure they had a deal, but she hadn’t imagined doing this with anyone. She wasn’t sure this moment was ever going to come.

It proved one thing though, the Minutemen, the Railroad, even the Brotherhood - she didn’t need any of them in the end. She may need their help somewhere down the line of course, but, at the end of all this, the one person she had to thank was a nosy reporter in Diamond City. Piper pointed her in Valentine’s direction, and Nick brought her here.

She was tired, the trip back to Diamond City had been exhausting. Dogmeat picked up the scent almost immediately and she was running away from the city she just spent the last day walking to. 

The Fort was in the middle of nowhere, which she supposed was the point. When she marked their location on her Pip-Boy she couldn’t believe how close they were to Sanctuary - a damn sight closer than they were to Diamond City - she’d essentially just spent two days walking in a giant circle. The place was teaming with synths and her usual ‘stick to the shadows’ strategy was gone as soon as she dropped inside. She had no choice, she rushed through the endless rooms and corridors, striking down anything that tried to shoot her head off. As soon as the gravelled voice sounded through the silence she was practically running, he _was_ there and all her months of procrastinating were finally paying off. She was one step closer to finding Shaun. 

He taunted her, the entire way, told her to leave, that he knew what it was like to try and protect family. _Frozen TV Dinner_ \- she knew what he meant by that, but it didn’t make her hate him any less. It was getting harder not to try to kill him.

“My synths are standing down. Come in, let’s talk.”

She didn’t need him to open the doors for her, yeah sure the lock looked pretty complicated but she knew she could have cracked it.

“Are you ready for this doll?” asked Nick. 

She answered by walking forward and swinging open the door to the main computer room. There was no going back, not now. She knew Shaun wouldn’t be on the other side of the door, she wasn’t that hopeful, or naive, but Kellogg was going to tell her what the hell he’d done with Shaun. If she had to make him bleed, then so be it.

She immediately took note of the four synths that stood close by the door, staring at her, guns in hand. So much for ‘standing down’.

“There she is.” came the voice that haunted her. “The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth.”

_You’ve no idea._

He stepped into view and she was suddenly transported back a decade. He looked the same as did when he stepped up to her pod - military fatigues, that damn scar over his left eye. He even had the same pistol, the pistol that did her job for her - she still had to thank him for that.

Leaving her alive had definitely been a mistake on his part. There was no back-up, no second chance for them. Their legacy rested on the shoulders of a ten year old boy.

“Where is he?” She didn’t reach for the gun on her thigh, her fingers just dangled close to it, she could draw and shoot her pistol before any of them took their first shot.

The moment he left her alive in the vault he knew she’d find him eventually. But the bastards at the Institute had made it clear, she was the back-up; she needed to be kept alive.

And they certainly did that. Keeping her on ice for sixty years and then suddenly releasing her. Why now? She was right, it had been a while - seven months actually. Ever since the news of her appearance reached his ears. His spies had seen her emerge, they even saw a fucking Railroad agent watch from the hill, but they didn’t kill him. Why? If he had been there, he would have killed anyone in sight, including the woman in front of him now.

She was the same…but different from when he first laid eyes on her. She wasn’t wearing that vault suit…Shame, those suits were so kind to a person’s figure and she had a pretty nice one. She removed the items that covered her face the moment she stepped through the door, as if she was undressing herself for a job interview. Her green eyes burnt into him, just like they did when he pressed himself up against the glass of her cryopod. They were focused, determined, but he didn’t read anger in her face. Her hair used to be long and dark but the woman in front of him had short white curls that bounced on her shoulders.

_Commonwealth looks good on her._

If the circumstances had been different, if they weren’t connected the way they were, and she just stumbled upon him by accident, the animal in him probably would have seduced her and taken her on the desk, even in front of that fucking synth-detective at her side. Hell, he probably would have invited Valentine to join them, he doubted the synth had ever touched a woman in his life. He resisted the urge to chuckle at the thought, that would have definitely been a sure-fire way to get himself shot in the head.

“Relax, take a seat.” He gestured to the empty chair, she didn’t take it.

Just because he knew his time was up, didn’t mean he wasn’t going to prolong it for as long as possible. She had one synth, he had four, she’d be reluctant to start shooting. But she was going to, he knew that, there was no way she spent this whole time tracking him down just to leave him alive.

“Where is he?” She repeated.

“He’s fine. He’s not here.”

“ _Obviously._ What did you do with him?”

“He’s where he belongs…with the Institute.”

Her fears were confirmed. Shaun was in the one place no one knew how to get into. She could hack any terminal, unlock any door but she couldn’t get into a place that didn’t _really_ exist.

“Okay, now tell me how to get there.” She tried to remain as calm as possible. 

“Look. I’m sorry your husband is dead.” He almost sounded sincere.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for that, you did me a favour.”

Nathaniel’s death didn’t matter. For the most part she’d forgotten about him as soon as she left his lifeless body in the vault, the man didn’t deserve a proper burial.

Kellogg’s eyebrows raised at her words.

She was glad her husband was dead…that was an interesting surprise. As far as he knew, she was an ordinary housewife with little to no experience about how to fight a real fight. But he had spies everywhere. He’d heard of her exploits and he even admired how easy killing seemed to come to her. But this wasn’t the plan, the Commonwealth was supposed to chew her up and spit her out. She wasn’t supposed to make it this far.

Had this had been the Institute’s plan? Like everything else, had she been an experiment. Releasing her just to see what she would do. They had to know she would track him down eventually, of course the first thing a mother is going to do is find the man who stole her son. In that instant he _fucking knew_ the old man had planned this all along, all those scientists down there with their cosy lives and warped view of the way life should be. They were naive little fucks who knew nothing about the real world. 

The old man was a coward, something he obviously hadn’t inherited from his mother. If he wanted him dead, why not just send a Courser to do the job instead? No, of course not. Sure, Coursers were terrifying killing machines, capable of tearing a person in two - _if_ you didn’t know how they operated but Kellogg had been around the Coursers for years. He knew how they operated, he knew every wire and other piece of technology that made their entire being. One hard hit to the ribcage would damage their sensory vision (who puts sensory vision near the heart? Fucking idiots that’s who). A quick stab in the neck would tear through the connection to the brain and they’d be dead immediately.

A mother tearing apart the world to find her son…He could respect determination like that. He should have done the same thing, but the damage was already done by the time he got there. In a strange way, the same could be said for her. She would have made a fine addition to the Institute. If circumstances had been different…

“I know what you’re going through, I had a family too. Once.” _Sentiment_.

Kellogg was steering the conversation away from the real point and she refused to indulge him. She’d wasted enough time already. 

“Good for you. Now, tell me how to find the Institute.”

His eyes scanned her as she stepped closer and she noted the panic on Nick as he tried to stop her. If she was weak, if she had been anyone else, she would have been terrified but he was a mercenary, just like her. They had more in common than he realised.

“You don’t find the Institute. They find you.”

She noticed it straight away, she bet Kellogg did too, they were slowly moving in a circle - like two alphas getting ready to fight each other. Kellogg was an up close and personal sort of killer, liked his face to be the last thing his victims saw. Unless the situation called for it, she preferred to shoot from a distance, shadows were her friends. 

And she thought her and MacCready were two sides of the same coin. It was like looking at a male version of herself. In another world the two of them could have compared notes.

“Doubt they’re going to look for me here,” she taunted. “I suspect they’ve not spoken to you for quite some time.”

It was obvious that Kellogg had been hung out to dry by the Institute, locking himself away in a fortified fort, protected by synths he probably programmed himself. She wondered if his last job with the Institute had been to take Shaun. It was an order they would live to regret, keeping her alive as the back-up. She’d said it countless time before, research was _so_ important, particularly when it came to kidnapping a baby she swore to protect.

She was extremely aware of the synths in the room, they were outnumbered five-to-two but she didn’t care. She could take them all on bare handed if she had to, machines were easy to rip apart.

“Odd, you talk about time…” He wondered if she knew yet. 

There was a reason the old man made him take that kid to the City and, considering the Institute had obviously planned for her to find him, they knew she would eventually find Valentine and he’d have a record of the event. The old man had planned the whole thing, every last detail.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The people in her new life had softened her but as she stood in front of the man that ruined her mission, her life, she wanted nothing more than to shoot him in the head and watch as his blood poured over the floor. At that moment she couldn’t tell who was more of a monster, the man stood in front of her, or herself. 

So she didn’t know…the look on her face would certainly be one for the ages. Kellogg also imagined she was going to be real pissed when she finds out her new friends know _exactly_ when he took her son.

“It’s not really my place to say.” He could tell her, be a shame to ruin the surprise though. Even if he wasn’t going to be around to see it. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

He turned away for a split second, turning back to point his gun at her. He could have been faced away for hours, two synths were already laying in a heap on the ground by the time he got off the first shot. He missed her completely as she dived behind a desk.

The detective wasn’t so agile and he heard the bullet ricochet off his body and watched smugly as he fell to the ground, grasping at his knee. He really should get himself an upgrade, a detective with the body of a Courser…now that would definitely be a sight to see. He heard her shout to the synth to see if he was okay.

“I’m fine doll. Get the son of a bitch.”

Kellogg activated the StealthBoy on his wrist and snuck through the gaps, spotting her only a short distance from him. She had her back to him, now was his chance. Shame really…She was a perfect replica of the pre-war people that once walked the land, everyone else had ghoulified. She was the last of her kind, he’d certainly be punished in death just for removing her from the planet.

“Asshole.” She seethed through gritted teeth before turning in his direction.

He was invisible…She couldn’t possibly see him…Could she?

His question was quickly answered when she lifted up her gun and pistol whipped him over the face. His blood was visible when he spat it out.

Unable to keep his footing, he fell onto the floor and her foot pressed against his wrist, crushing his StealthBoy as it faltered under her force. He fluttered into view and she was staring down at him. He could almost read the sympathy on her face. Why the fuck was she giving him (of all people) sympathy? That hurt more than the cut on his face. A new scar to add to the collection.

Her foot released his wrist and kicked away his gun before he had a chance to pick it up. She pointed the gun already in her hand at him and didn’t take her eyes away from him as she bent down and picked up his weapon.

“Nice piece.” She turned it in her hands, taking a selfish second to look at it.

He always admired a girl that knew her weapons. He tried to hide the anguish as he wiped the seeping blood off his face.

“I really don’t want to kill you.” But she still had a gun pointed at his head.

“But you’re going to anyway.” It wasn’t a question.

“Is that what you want?” Her eyebrow curved in confusion. “You do, don’t you? You want nothing more than to be put out of your misery.”

“Tell me what I need to know and I’ll do it.” Her gripped tightened on her gun and her finger held firm against the trigger.

“Ask your friends.” A surly grin spread across his face. “You’ll never find the Institute, you’ll never find your son.”

“Do you know why people wait till the last second to cock their gun? It’s because they want to instil fear. In this particular case it’s because I want to remember the look on your face when I tell you my secret.” She cocked her gun and held it against his forehead. “He’s not my fucking son”

She pulled the trigger and Kellogg’s body fell to the ground.

“You okay doll?” he asked in the sweetest voice he could muster. 

She shook her head. She had expected Kellogg’s death to bring her some form of closure but she didn’t feel anything but drained, killing Kellogg didn’t answer anything, it only formed more questions.

“Shall I meet you at Goodneighbor?” Valentine was adorable.

Kellogg was barely human, stuffed with so much tech he wasn’t far off being classified as cyborg. She still had hold of the whatever she pulled out of Kellogg. Nick told her Amari could help.

She was about to respond when the ground moved and a huge airship flew over them, an announcement blaring out through its speakers. It was official, the Brotherhood was in the Commonwealth, and in that moment she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight another battle.

Her body was tired, her brain on the other hand was pumped with adrenaline and the usual ‘what the fuck am I doing with my life?’ state she had going on. There were enough problems on the surface of the Commonwealth - the Institute was underground, the Brotherhood were in the sky…the Minutemen were stuck in the fucking middle.

She needed to go back to Castle, talk with Preston. Hell, she needed to go to a lot of places, talk with a lot of people, but someone else required her attention first.

“It’s okay, go back to Diamond City. I’ll meet you in Goodneighbor in a week, there’s some things I need to do first.” Valentine knew better than to press the issue, he lightly squeezed her hand and left her outside Fort Hagen. 

If she was an ordinary girl then she probably would have felt terrified at suddenly being on her own after what had just happened but she was grateful for the quiet (peace wasn’t an option - she would never be at peace). 

_Ask your friends_. There was only one organisation he could have meant, the only one she could be remotely associated with. Though how the fuck he knew she was with them was lost on her.

The problem with being on her own and travelling that amount of distance was that she had the opportunity to analyse (overthink) everything. She realised why he left now. All those times she thought he’d run away but he hadn’t, and just when she thought he wasn’t…he was. 

That one made her head hurt.

 

* * * *

 

Deacon was in the escape tunnel, where Glory had left him. After ‘ordering’ him not to come back in until he put his game face on. He was trying, but it was hard. He didn’t even know if he was going to see Whisper again, and he wasn’t sure he could pass it off as Minutemen business for much longer, not since the boss had started asking questions.

He was startled out of his head by something wet and heavy landing in his lap.

“Ask your friends.”

His eyes shot upwards immediately. Even through his sunglasses he was blinded by a light he hadn’t planned on seeing inside HQ. A part of him was happy to see her, after thinking he never would, but then he realised she wasn’t wearing a wig…hadn’t even bothered to put on a hat. Whisper must be real pissed if she’d forgotten about _that_ and Deacon suspected she had run all the way here from wherever Kellogg was.

Whatever was on his lap was soaking through his jeans and he looked down, his face quickly contorting into horror at the metal contraption covered in blood and (eww gross) brain matter. He shot up to his feet like a bullet and silently freaked out about the disgusting thing Whisper had put in his lap.

“Ask them what?” he pointlessly brushed himself down. “Why I insist on hanging around a complete psychopath? Where the hell did you get that thing anyway?” he pointed at it.

“Oh, this?” she bent down to pick it up and held it to his face. “It was in Kellogg’s head. I noticed it after I blew his brains out,” she added putting her arm down. 

“Whisper, are you out of your mind?!” He couldn’t believe she put that shit on him.

“HEY!” the anger in her voice surprised even her. “I am the only one allowed to be angry right now!” 

Whisper had just come back from killing Kellogg, and he knew his time was finally up. To be honest it should have happened weeks ago.

“What do you know about Kellogg and Vault 111?” 

He relented, because he had no other option, not telling her was one thing but he always knew he couldn’t lie if she asked him outright. He gestured for her to sit down on the ground next to him, she obliged. He stared at the floor as he spoke, rubbing his hands in a self-comforting gesture. 

It was time.

“Kellogg’s been known to the Railroad for a while now, even way before I joined up. They knew he was a mercenary and that he was connected to the Institute,” he sat back with a groan, mindlessly picking the dirt from his fingernails as he continued, “the Railroad didn’t know anything about the Institute, not as much as we know now - and we still no fuck all.” He slumped forwards again, refusing to look at her. 

He couldn’t look at her, not directly at least because he knew she had taken off her sunglasses and bandana, knew she was trying to play him and he also knew that it would work if he gave in, and he wasn’t sure his heart could take the torment on her face.

He just admitted he knew about Kellogg, and that he didn’t say anything to her when his name first came up. And it was only going to get worse from there.

“There’s a story, from way before I joined.”

Everyone in the Railroad hears the story eventually, and as soon as word reached HQ that Kellogg was dead everyone and their grandmothers would be asking who he was, and Carrington would be only too happy to tell the story. But Whisper couldn’t hear it from him, or anyone else, Deacon was going to have to be the one; he knew that.

But that didn’t mean, for one-second, he was happy about it.

“The Railroad were there when Kellogg and his team broke into Vault 111. No one followed them inside, but they saw him leaving, records say he was seen carrying something.”

It seemed years ago that he met her in Diamond City, when she took him to Valentine and finally told him the truth. It was probably the first time he ever hated hearing the truth, with the exception of Barbara. She started off easy on him, describing what her prewar occupation was, her sham of a marriage. Her mission to protect the boy who wasn’t her son.

It wasn’t until she said ‘Vault 111’ that he suddenly found himself sat on a knife edge and it almost tore his arse in half when Valentine mentioned Kellogg. He learnt a long time ago, when things get too real - run. So, why for the sake of his infuriating woman, did he stay?

He knew Valentine hadn’t said it to be cruel, it wasn’t in the man’s nature, but he still had a point. Given everything she’d been through, it took her a long time to trust him enough to allow him to hear it, he doubted she had even said half of it out loud before. He was a liar, that was obvious to everyone but when he didn’t tell her what he knew he never felt so guilty keeping a secret before. As soon as she’d tracked down Kellogg, Deacon knew he would sell them out, and he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face.

He suspected that the only reason she came back to HQ was because she knew this was where he would run to.

“Some _thing_ , or some _one_?”

He did the one thing he knew he shouldn’t have done and looked at her, and his heart almost broke in two. It was real, about as real as it was when they found out what synth they were transporting, and it hurt him because all those other times it wasn’t his fault, the universe was just fucking with them, but this time it _was_ because of him.

He always knew, deep down, she was better off without him.

His eyebrows raised when the emerald green of her eyes shone brightly in contrast to the dim light of the escape tunnel; as though they glowed in the dark. Everything he read in them killed him slightly, and she knew it. Whisper wasn’t the kid’s mother but she still needed to save him, she’d made it her mission. He knew she secretly hated herself for doing errands for the Railroad, or getting dragged into helping a settlement instead of following every lead and tearing down every wall that would find Shaun, just as much as he hated himself for preoccupying her. At first he didn’t even realise he’d been doing it then it became an uncontrollable habit. Whisper was like him, she hid her face and used her words, it’s easier to tell a convincing lie if people can’t see the ‘shit-I-hope-you-believe-me’ look in your eyes.

“When did you first suspect?” Whisper took his busying hands in hers, rose a hand hesitantly in the air for a moment before putting it back on top of his, she gave the smallest, saddest fucking smile he’d ever seen. He was extremely aware of her thumbs stroking the back of his hands. 

_Nice play._

“I know you, you analyse everything, you must have questioned something, if not _everything._ ” Well, she had him there. 

Her hand rose further in the air this time before it fell back down, Whisper was fighting herself. Deacon knew what she wanted, to be on a level playing field just like they always were. He grinded him teeth before he gave in to her, peeling his hands away from hers and slowly placing his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his sunglasses and cautiously removed them from his face; he instantly felt naked without them. She’d seen them before, though at the time she thought she was dreaming, but Deacon suspected she’d figured out she wasn’t by now. She used hers to lower his hand back into his lap and resume their original position. 

_She’s thorough._

“When you were first in Goodneighbour,” he spoke slowly, concentrating on stopping his face from expressing every emotion he felt. “When you first met Whitechapel Charlie…You shouted Codsworth?” 

She looked down as she recalled the memory, then looked at him with hopeful eyes and a nod. Things were getting real again but he wasn’t going to run, not this time, instead he placed an arm over her shoulders, she tucked herself in as if he was going to tell her a magical story with a happy ending, but Deacon was pretty sure there wasn’t one. Whisper was finally getting the truth out of him and if they had to play bullshit little roles to make the whole thing easier she was happy to let him have this moment. 

“I remembered the name, it was the Mr. Handy back in Sanctuary, he was always too busy cleaning pointlessly, whining about how angry sir and mum were going to be at the state of the house. And I got to thinking,” he took her hand in his, “what if this woman…what if she was mum?” 

_She. Good distance yourself just a little bit. Don’t fuck this up._

“She’d barely paid attention to it when she first jumped down that hill,” laced his fingers with hers. “At first I thought she’d lost her mind but when I saw her take a rifle and a coat out of a vent in a red rocket station and kill a hoard of molerats with ease, I was pretty sure I wasn’t dealing with your run-of-the-mill Vault Dweller. Something about this woman was special.” 

_A cleverly masked truth._

Deacon let his head fall on top of hers.

“But…I couldn’t help but wonder, what had happened in that vault that made her forget.” Gently rubbed her shoulder. “What could have been so bad that she just ran past her home? Had she seen Kellogg? I knew it was impossible, this woman was no older than twenty-five,” Deep breath, bombshell ahoy, “and Kellogg had last been seen by the vault in sixty years.”

Deacon winced and braced himself for the inevitable volley of punches but they didn’t come, her hands didn’t remove themselves from his, Whisper didn’t make any movement of any kind and that’s when he realised. In the darkness of the tunnel, the relative softness of the ground and his body keeping her warm, Whisper had drifted off in his arms. He wondered how much she had heard and what would plague her sleep this time, _technically_ , this counted as telling her the truth, it was hardly his fault that Whisper had fallen asleep. 

Of course she hadn’t fallen asleep, she heard every word that left his mouth but this seemed easier than either of them talking about their emotions, besides Deacon had finally told her the truth and this was her reward to him - to not press the issue. She wondered how long he was going to endure sitting on the ground but he lifted her up and carried her back inside. She resisted the urge to open her eyes when she felt him turn right, into the war room. He was taking her to _his_ mattress.

She overheard Tom ask what happened.

“Oh you know, she ate something and then fell asleep. Maybe the Institute finally got to her. Best keep an eye out.” he added as he walked away. 

She had to suppress the smile that wanted to betray her. She felt the softness of the mattress on her back as he laid her down. She thought he would leave her to it but she felt him slide down behind her and he pulled her into his chest. 

_This is your guilt_ she silently told him. 

She was going to take a leaf out of Deacon’s book, for the first time in her life, she was going to run. 

Eventually faux sleep turned into real sleep, only a few hours had past but when she did finally stir, Deacon was turned away from her, a safe distance between them. She knew Deacon was a light sleeper so she tried her hardest to get out of the bed and not disturb him, the torment on his sleeping body told her that even if he did wake he probably wasn’t going to say a word. She hated herself for what she was doing, it was unprofessional and quite frankly immature but she didn’t care. If there were any truth to Deacon’s story then it was only logical that indeed Kellogg had broken into the vault sixty years before she had… _thawed_.

_Shaun’s been missing for sixty years…_ the words haunted her mind. 

Somehow she felt less guilty about being preoccupied by the problems of the Commonwealth. She was careful to close the door to the escape tunnel and it took all her strength to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. 

After everything she’d heard about the Institute, if Shaun had been with them for sixty years then what kind of person was he? Was he beyond saving? She shook the idea out of her mind, she had to think of the possibility but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Right now, she couldn’t process anything and she needed a distraction and she knew the perfect one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I opted to quote Kellogg rather than Shakespeare in this chapter mainly because I really like that line but I feel like it's so randomly placed in his dialogue.
> 
> There's a reoccurring theme of time in this, which wasn't planned so I hope I haven't overused the word too much.
> 
> I'm going through some fucked up shit in my life right now and writing is a way for me to get it out of my system so the next few chapters will be update quite quickly and they do go a bit angsty...not too dark though, I'll post any necessary warnings beforehand.
> 
> Thanks for reading, you guys really are keeping me going =]


	33. My Nemesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper's just ran away from the Railroad and goes to the one place she always goes; running into the wrong arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bucket load of angst in this. Also trigger warnings for body mutilation. I hadn't original planned on adding it, but it's there now, so apologies. 
> 
> (Chapter Title: [My Nemesis - Five Finger Death Punch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heDGwljdmvM))

_Out, damned spot! out, I say!_

 

Inexperience and bad leadership were to blame in the beginning. She saw it from the sidelines, fellow soldiers returning back to base grief-stricken and sobbing and it only cemented her choice to travel alone, which suited her just fine.

It happened a lot, more times than she liked to think about, soldiers coming home to mourn their partners. The guilt, the sadness, the failure written all over them - sometimes it was hard to watch. It was then that she was reminded that they were really all just children, thrust into battles they had no business fighting.

Then, eventually, came betrayal. Greed and self-preservation took over from inexperience and people begun to show their real colours. They worked as a collective, separately but together, all of them striving for the same goal; a safer world. At least that was how she looked at it.

She received offers too, when other countries took note of her but no amount of money or the promise of a better life could make her turn on the people who raised her. She was well assimilated by then, though still had a spark of rebellion, but she knew she had them to thank (and hate) for the person she was.

There was a reason they hadn’t gone soft on them during training, because they knew the world wouldn’t offer them that courtesy. She was content with growing up to see the world for what it really was, rather than the protective bubble her real family would have kept her in. All of them had received the same treatment, they all went through the same shit together and whilst a part of her wasn’t exactly shocked, she was surprised at how easily people crumble when money got involved.

If she had to ‘betray’ someone it was usually her mark, she was astounded that people could turn their backs on the people they fought alongside after so many years. At least most of them came back alive, rather than being left in a ditch to choke on their own blood.

_This is why you don’t get a partner_. _This is why you don’t let people in._

It was like a metaphorical knife was stuck in her back, she even moved like she was injured. In a way she was, not externally, but definitely on the inside. Everything hurt.

She’d been careful with MacCready, opening up about things she never thought she would, but she still kept _some_ things to herself and he respected her for that just fine. But

_Holy crap, the things you’ve told him._

She had technically told them to Valentine but Deacon was there, and she’d fucking invited him. She mentally and physically kicked herself, allowing herself to get attacked more as punishment for letting her guard down.

_This is why you can’t trust people. This is why you can’t tell them anything._

Most people can count on one hand how many people they truly trust. But it’s a funny thing, trust, there are different levels. 

There are those you know you can trust with information, you know they won’t tell anyone. There are those you oddly trust to eventually stab you in the back, and then there are the ones you trust with your life.

Before waking up she didn’t trust anyone but herself - it was safer than way. But in the past seven months she knew she could count on MacCready and Hancock…and just when she finally admitted out loud that she trusted him.

_Everybody lies. You know that better than anyone._

Deacon was a liar, she couldn’t judge him for that, but he should never have kept this from her. He had no right to, it stopped being about the Railroad the second he came to Diamond City. It was about her, her _mission,_ her _life_. Why did it seem like he’d been trying to control her since the beginning? As if he’d seeped inside her head and was the reason she went to find them in the first place.

She should never have found the Railroad, she should never have walked away from MacCready that day - she should have stayed with him because her life hadn’t been the same since she left him, and not for the better.

When the night sky greeted her on the other side of the escape tunnel, she stared up desperately at the stars, willing them to put a smile on her face. They didn’t and she quickly looked away, she couldn’t let one of the few things she liked be ruined just because she felt like _this._

She didn’t even know what she was feeling, so many things at once it made her head spin. She knew she wouldn’t be able to make it to Sanctuary in good time, and she couldn’t go back inside HQ. At that moment she never wanted to step foot inside again. Joining the Brotherhood was an option way before that was.

She needed to go to Goodneighbor, numb herself with Hancock for a while. She’d send a letter to MacCready straightaway, if he was in Sanctuary he’d get it, and if he wanted, he would come for her. She would wait as long as she needed to, she had literally nowhere else to go. And if _he_ came looking for her first…well, one word to Hancock and he wouldn’t get through the gate.

It was impossible for her to sneak into the town, _everyone_ knew who she was but it was still early and she got up to Hancock’s office with relative ease. He was sitting on his couch, arms folded over his chest and his head was bobbing up and down as he tried to keep himself awake, and repeatedly failed.

“John?” She said more softly than he deserved. A part of this _was_ his fault.

“Sunshine?” His head bolted up and he looked around.

“Behind you,” she laughed lightly. She couldn’t help it, he was so darn cute sometimes.

“Surprised to see you here, thought you’d never want to speak to me again.” He admitted bashfully. He got off the couch and moved towards her, cautiously as if she were an injured animal he was trying to help.

She wasn’t sure if she would have been better off with Deacon being with her after all, given the state she was in she might have shot him too. In the end, Hancock probably did her a favour, and saved Deacon’s life in the process. For the first time she wanted him to be a synth, so she could use his damn recall code. But she was sure that wouldn’t make her feel any better either.

It would only mean more people getting hurt and she was fine with it just being her.

“I was mad at first, but I knew _you_ knew Valentine would try and deal with it _his_ way.” Deacon ran away because he was a coward. “Not your fault, John.”

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but the people who were really to blame had been dead for centuries. She had no one left but herself.

Nothing ever was, in her eyes anyway, in Daisy’s however, it was an entirely different story. In his own way he was doing the right thing, one minute she was weeping over the change in her relationship with MacCready, next minute she was running around with Deacon - on something not related to the Railroad, or the Institute. Hancock knew she could take care of herself, but she was still a woman - still felt all those crazy hormones the rest of them felt. Someone had to warn Deacon what he was in store for if he gave it to his own hormones.

“You’re too soft on this old ghoul, you know that right?”

“I know, I can’t help it. You were the first person in the Commonwealth to help me,” she beamed. “Call it girlish-fantasy but I’ll always be soft on the man that saved my life.”

She eyes widened and she looked away confused when images of Deacon flashed in her head. He saved her life too, but at that moment she didn’t want to be soft on him, she wanted to kill him.

“I need chems.” She demanded. 

It had been a while since she used, she hadn’t really felt the need to, and it was rare that she asked for them from Hancock. He knew something was wrong the minute she walked through the door, Sunshine liked to think she was all mysterious but once you see her face there’s no going back. You can read everything on it, the things she was desperate to hide and he suspected that it had more to do with just him ‘threatening’ Deacon.

“Actually,” he stopped half way to the drawer, just in case she changed her mind. She knelt down to reach inside her pack and pulled out a letter. “Can you find someone to give this to a caravan when one comes in. I’d give it to Daisy…but you know, that would involve having to admit that I came here first, _again_.”

She had an excuse the first time, Daisy was busy, then she saw MacCready and then…yeah. She wasn’t sure she could get away with, once again, running into the wrong arms. Arms that didn’t deserve her, too beautiful and innocent to wrap themselves around something so evil.

She was cursed, she could see that now. The universe was making it impossible to complete her mission. If the Railroad’s intel was right, and she had no reason to suspect it wasn’t, then she wasn’t just one decade late, she was six.

For all she knew, Shaun could be dead.

And it was her fault. If she hadn’t gone on that mission in the first place, Nathaniel would never have given him to her and he never would have been wrapped up in their mess. She would have been allowed to enjoy her time in the Commonwealth, not that she hadn’t, but she would have been free of any burdens. Maybe she might have put some real effort into the Minutemen…they deserved better too.

“Consider it done.”

Hancock did everything she asked, always gave her exactly what she needed. Even when she didn’t deserve it.

She had no right to numb herself, to slink away from reality. She deserved to sit with her pain and suffer.

 

* * * *

 

Dez put it down to Minutemen business, just like she always did, but Glory wasn’t convinced this time. It was an obvious, useful, excuse as to why she was gone most of the time, Glory hoped that she just aimlessly wandered the Commonwealth for something to shoot at. 

But Deacon was way too messed up for it to be that simple. Whisper had left as quickly as she came back and Deacon had been staring into space since the moment he woke up. The second Glory bent down she knew exactly why he was sitting on this particular mattress instead of his own, he had a direct view of the escape door, he’d be the first one to see Whisper walk back through it.

“You told her then.” Glory said softly. 

“She asked.” His voice was flat, no obvious emotion coming out, but Glory didn’t need to hear it in his voice when she could read it on his face.

Deacon was always a light sleeper, having a bounty on your back will do that to you, so he knew it was early when he woke up that morning. He’d fallen asleep in an awkward position, his arm outstretched over the mattress, his head resting uncomfortably on his arm. Before he even opened his eyes, Deacon knew something was amiss. The weight on the mattress was different, it didn’t feel as heavy. And he didn’t have to look to know what, or who, was missing.

When he finally found the courage to open his eyes the empty side of the mattress stared back at him, he ignored his screaming joints as he readjusted himself to look around the room. No sign of her. He looked down again at the completely empty bed - no letter, no apologetic goodbye; nothing. Whisper had done the one thing he’d been fearing since the moment she stepped into the Old Church; she’d left. And he was pretty sure she wasn’t ‘recuperating’ in Goodneighbor this time… 

He felt a surge of anger when reality sunk in, Whisper hadn’t just left, she’d run away.

_That’s my thing._

But he hadn’t run away from her, even after he found out the truth and every fibre of his being told him to. No, for this woman he had kept his feet firmly on the ground - putting up with her flirting with every man and woman that showed the slightest bit of interest, dragging him all across the Commonwealth for this and that. She should have known how difficult it was for him to finally admit it to her, even if it was because he was backed into a corner. But (with the exception of those little white ones, you know the ones so tiny that they’re believable) he’d stopped lying to her, sure he still lied through his teeth to everyone else and she gladly indulged him, she knew more about him than he’d ever originally planned and yet she still _fucking_ ran. After everything they’d been through, he never expected her to stoop so low, and he was reminded of the constant thought that plagued his mind; maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” Talking about it hadn’t helped last time, why would it make a difference now?

“Okay, just don’t let Dez see you like this.” 

Rule number one; don’t spook the boss.

If Deacon was just a little more honest about what he was up to then none of this would have happened. Sure Whisper probably would have still been a part of the Railroad, but Glory wouldn’t have put them together if he’d told her a few months ago. 

That was the problem when two people shared a secret, they shared part of the guilt too.

 

* * * *

 

“Why’d you do it, John?” she asked, running a soft hand down his arm.

They were sat on the couch in his office, canisters of Jet, both empty and full, littered the space around them and the sun had only just reached its highest point.

“Do what Sunshine?” He smiled at the doe-eyed face she was pulling. She was right, she was a whole other person when she was on them, especially now he knew what was underneath all that gear.

There was still sadness written all over it, deep sadness too, but the chems were helping, those and his presence were enough to distract her from the criticising voice in her head.

“Care about me, protect me?” She sighed. “I’ve never questioned it, but I’ve never really understood it either.”

“I knew from the moment you walked through that door there was something different about you. Sure a lot of people come here with their face covered up, on their last legs, but…I don’t know. I had a feeling about you, I guess.”

“My medical skills really impress you that much, huh?”

“Actually, what cemented it for me was when you pulled out a knife. You talk about me protecting you, you were ready to ‘defend my honour’ just because I was the Mayor.”

“I never liked bullies,” she stated with a shrug. “You don’t need to treat me like I’m made of glass, you know that, right?”

“I know, but I’ve got this habit, just like you’ve got a nice little habit of popping into town when you’re at your worse.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I should probably set up a Minutemen office in town,” she added, looking around his office.

“No plans to go back to the Railroad any time soon?”

She answered him by taking another hit of Jet. “None so far.”

So Deacon definitely had something to do it, though that much he had deduced already. It must have been real bad if she had no desire to go back to the one organisation she said were actually useful when it came to the Institute.

“So, you’re planning on staying awhile?”

“Depends on a number of factors. Why?”

“No reason, it’s just,” he wrapped his arm over her shoulder, “you know he’s going to come looking for you right?”

“I don’t think he will, not this time.”

Cowardice or respect, she wasn’t quite sure at that moment but she knew Deacon would keep his distance, for a while at least.

“You gonna be okay, Sunshine?”

“I’m always okay John, you know that.” She offered him a weak smile, both of them knew it wasn’t true but he let her have it. “So, what woke you up so early this morning?”

She wanted to get off the subject of all things her, dissolve herself in someone else’s life for a while.

“Same thing that woke up everyone else, hardly the most subtle of entrances.”

“I don’t know John, I actually kind of liked it. It was certainly a way to introduce themselves.”

She wasn’t happy about the fact she liked it. She helped out that team a while back sure, but she was gone before they had the chance to approach her, and saving them had been entirely coincidental because she was actually shooting at the swarm of ferals that were rushing towards her.

Given everything she had read and heard about the Brotherhood they had different views on a lot of things. Neither the Minutemen or the Railroad were going to be happy that they were in the Commonwealth.

“Are you worried about the town?” The Brotherhood had a very negative view on ghouls.

“And the rest of the Commonwealth.”

“I’ve put a lot of effort into this place, and I’ve lived here longer than them, I’m not just going to let them ruin all my good work.”

“I know you won’t, but it’s nice to hear.”

“I’m not that far gone, John.” He raised a would-be eyebrow at her when she took yet another shot of Jet.

It had been a while since she’d done chems in his presence, Hancock suspected that she had stopped using them elsewhere too, and knew that subconsciously it had something to do with Deacon - the biggest anti-chems protestor in the whole Commonwealth.

“It’s just…you go through shit, to have more shit thrown at you and when you’re done with all that, the universe dumps a load more on you. Sums up my life really.”

“Not to make you feel any less valid, but that sums up a lot of people’s lives.”

“But this was supposed to be my second chance John.” She hated the pity she felt for herself, it was undeserving. “I swear the universe is designed to fuck with me.”

He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, he’d lived a lot of lives but they had been his decision. Sunshine didn’t get a choice in anything she did. He didn’t need to know the reason behind her mood, he just knew he needed to take care of her. If her relationship with MacCready really had changed, if she wasn’t interested in seeing Deacon again, then she had no one else. He _had_ to take care of her.

“Listen, Sunshine -“

She silenced him by using her hand to squeeze his ruined mouth closed.

“No talk, no apologies. I don’t wanna speak, I don’t wanna _think_. I just want to get high on chems and never move again.”

The Railroad was ruined for her, Sanctuary was tainted for her…she took him around Shaun’s room. For once she found the courage to go in there, invite someone inside, and talk about him…and he knew the truth the whole time.

She could feel it in her chest, the overwhelming need to cry and she groaned in frustration at herself. Hancock pretended not to see her wipe away the tear that escaped. For a moment, she honestly thought Deacon was her chance to be happy and she hated herself even more for getting tricked like that.

This is what being soft had done to her, she put her faith in the one person she knew she shouldn’t have. She thought the universe was done throwing crap at both of them, but she realised they’d been through a lot since leaving Valentine’s office. The fact that her and Deacon were growing closer blinded her to the fact that they were obviously being punished for something. Him, for not telling her and her for taking so long. Not that it was her fault that sixty years had past, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

If MacCready decided not to come to Goodneighbor she would live within the town walls for the rest of her life. She doubted Hancock would mind, and she knew Daisy would love it. Nothing bad seemed to happen to her in Goodneighbor.

Hancock indulged her, as he always did, and let her get as high as she wanted (within reason because Daisy would kill him). But after the high, there was always the low. She was asleep, her head rested comfortably on his lap and he saw the torment written all over her. Even Sunshine couldn’t control her face when she was asleep.

The overwhelming desire to hurt Deacon was back, and not just for kicks this time. As far as he could tell, Sunshine didn’t let anyone get to her, until Deacon came along. Everything changed the day it was confirmed she was working with the Railroad, if he had been told about her plan a little sooner he might have had time to warn her.

Awake she told him not to treat her like glass, but asleep she looked just like it. Fragile, almost to the point of breaking and he still loved that she always came to him. He meant what he said, he couldn’t help but protect her, and whether she admitted it or not, at that moment it was exactly what she needed - to protect herself from reality for a bit. Goodneighbor was the perfect place for her to do just that. 

“John?” Her voice startled him awake, as he begun to doze off.

“What’s the matter?” He lifted her off him to check her over, she quickly wiped away the tear that left her.

The kids at the academy used to do it, maybe it would work for her as an adult.

“If I were to ask you to take me to bed and hold me, would that be okay?”

“Anything you want Sunshine.”

He walked her to his bedroom, placed her between the sheets and settled in next to her. Sunshine was probably the only woman who slept in his bed that he hadn’t had sex with, it was still a little strange for him.

He held her and felt her silently crying into him, he ignored it just as he always did. Something had really messed her up and in that moment, and any other, there wasn’t such a thing as her asking too much of him.

He’d give her the world if he could. Anything to put a smile on the face that was currently breaking his heart.

 

* * * *

 

Deacon made it all the way back into the archway until his crippling anxiety kept him there. He couldn’t go in further because that was where the war room was, and people would look at him instantly. The only thing he could do was stand helpless in the archway he didn’t want to be in either because out of the corner of his eye he could see Whisper’s mattress and his guilt was added to everything else he was already feeling.

_This is my fault…and there’s nothing I can do about it._

He should be running after her, knowing full well she’d run to Goodneighbor because she didn’t have her boyfriend anymore, and she said so herself - she was always there. But he knew it was the last thing she wanted him to do. She’d managed to sneak out without waking him, if that wasn’t a clear sign she didn’t want to see him, he didn’t know what was.

He still found it hard to believe that she ran away, he had his worries that she would but still, he never thought of her as running away from anything. He could understand why, after all there was only so far one person could be pushed before they give up.

No one seemed to acknowledge her sudden absence either, considering no one saw her leave and she’d only been back a few hours. He really expected Dez to at least acknowledge it, but when everyone was awake, she just acted like nothing was different. In fact none of them did.

Her name was still on the board, which had to be a good thing, it wasn’t like she’d handed in her notice and left the Railroad. No, she’d just left _him_.

“Where have you been all morning Deacon?” Dez asked, because despite hating him say it, she _did_ act like she was his mother.

_Okay, so a half-truth…that might open a few doors. And not allow her to ask me what’s wrong._

“Looking for my partner actually. We were playing hide and seek and either she’s too good or I’ve lost her.” 

_Oh, you’ve lost her alright._

He was desperate to sound casual, he was kind of pissed that Dez didn’t seem more worried, less than forty-eight hours ago she was questioning Whisper’s loyalty.

“She left me a note - she only came back to update me on a situation with the Minutemen. She would have informed me herself but she said you thought she was an intruder and knocked her out.” For the first time ever the judgmental eyebrow was raised at him.

_Seriously? Even Dez is on her side now._

“It’s hard enough getting recruits as it is, do you really have to hurt the ones we _do_ get?”

_Are you fucking serious? It took you over two months to take her off ‘probation’ and the last conversation we had you fucking asked me if the Minutemen were a distraction. Plus I had been hinting about this woman for about four months, and you didn’t give a shit back then._

“My bad, maybe if she wasn’t so darn quiet. I swear boss, she really lives up to her name.”

_Oh my god…the Railroad really are dicks._ Maybe not as terrible as the Brotherhood, but they were certainly worse than the Minutemen. The only thing the Minutemen cared about was a united Commonwealth where people could sleep soundly at night. Alls Dez cared about was putting synths in a safe location, he put his caps on it not being like that in other safehouses.

Whisper was better off without all of them really, he just knew it wasn’t the same for the reverse. The Commonwealth had come a long way in the seven months she’d been in it. She still would have gone to Nick whether she had found the Railroad or not, maybe that way - when she found Kellogg - the only person she could have taken her anger out on was the man responsible for taking the kid in the first place.

Three days. He’d give her three days before leaving to find her.

 

* * * *

 

“Hey, boss,” announced Fahrenheit as she stomped into the room. The bodyguard glared at her for a second, at least she thought it looked like a glare. “Your… _visitor_.” 

_Yep, she definitely hates me._

“Has a visitor.”

It had been almost two days since she entered Goodneighbor and so far she still had no plans on moving, which nobody seemed to mind.

There was only one person it could be, well, the one person they’d allow inside. She leapt off the couch but immediately stilled when she was on her feet. 

The last time they were in Goodneighbor, the last time she went running to him. She hadn’t forgotten what she did to his house either. The fact that he was there meant he either hadn’t seen it and had be on road when the caravan crossed him or he forgave her because he was still her best friend.

“It’s RJ.” She gave a smile of relief.

“Blimey, that was quick,” commented Hancock as he got up to stand next to her. “Think he ran here?”

“I know I did.”

“Well, don’t keep him waiting too long Sunshine, and for god sake be careful. Daisy will kill me.”

“It’s just one little quest, it’ll be over before you know it and I’ll come right back.”

“Promise?”

“Always, John.”

 

* * * *

 

She literally could not catch a break, even the chance to blow off a little steam was ruined by lies, and greed. 

Everything she touched seemed to turn bad, and she wondered why she insisted on clinging onto people she didn't deserve.

“You know you can’t trust Bobbi as far as you can throw her.” Pointed out MacCready as he was dragged towards the ghoul’s apartment.

“Of course, but she said something about a boatload of caps…can you imagine the look on Duncan’s face when he sees it?” It was a way to reel him in, though she was sure the promise of caps had done that on his own, imagining his son’s face would be enough to let her drag him _anywhere_.

There was always going to be a problem, dealing with people like Bobbi, but even she didn’t think the woman was that stupid. Even her friend, Mel, had a feeling something wasn’t quite right.

They met the woman _in_ Diamond City for crying out loud, in no circumstance should they have had to break through a subway tunnel. She was too busy focusing on everything else she was feeling to pay too much attention to the alarm bells going off in her head.

Until they went through the door and on the other side was stood Fahrenheit.

_As if the woman needs more reason to hate me_. Had been her first thought, but that was quickly replaced by the full realisation that Fahrenheit was stood in front of them. Which could only mean that it had something to do with Hancock, not McDonough…Bobbie had lied and if his bodyguard was there, then Hancock knew what the ghoul had planned the entire time.

She didn’t even give Bobbi the time to admit the truth. All the rage and anger she felt towards so many people came to a boil and she exploded. She held her rifle like a bat and didn’t stop swinging until MacCready pulled her away.

She blinked, and stared down at the bloodied pulp that had once been a person. 

_What the hell have I done?_

She’d never done that before, she’d killed and mutilated a lot of people but she’d never destroyed someone before. The fleshy mess on the floor in no way resembled the woman it once was.

_I’m a monster._

Without acknowledging the presence of anyone around her she ran for the door. Unsure of her bearings she glanced down at her Pip-Boy and noted her location. Her vision was hazy and she had no choice but to run through the tears.

_The Director had pulled her into her office one day, sat her down and told her._

_“You’re the only one we can trust to do this.”_

_There was a leak, the enemy was on the inside and they had their suspicions. They surveyed the accused, never using the same face twice, tracked their movements for months and their suspicions had been proven right._

_“We need to send a message.”_

_By the time this came around she had been out of solitary confinement and a straight-jacket for almost three weeks. It was clear, they were waiting for her to ‘get better’ before bringing her in on this._

_Not making friends had made it easier for her to accept the mission. She never made connections with any of them for this exact reason - the human race was fickle, could warp its entire moral code in the blink of an eye. Still, she had never killed one of her own before._

_But they weren’t the same, not anymore. In the end, everyone has to pick a side, and the person she’d been sent to kill had chosen the wrong one._

_She wasn’t particularly sure she was on the right side, she doubted there even was one, but she was loyal, right down to her core because that was what they wanted. In a strange way she envied the ones who managed to escape unnoticed, because that was what they’d done - escaped._

_Freed themselves of the rules and regulations. She suspected that not all of them ran into the arms of the enemy, the agency just hated the idea of desertion. Maybe a part of her stayed because she didn’t know anything else, and going to the enemy was out of the question. There was no freedom in her future, even if she did somehow manage to leave - given how ‘important’ she was to them - someone would track her down eventually._

_At least on this side of the line she didn’t have to worry about the law, if her instinct kicked in and she killed someone on the other side she would spend her life in jail._

_You never learn on a real person, you can never prepare for the screaming. You can plan every other detail other than that._

_Read the intel, track his movements - get ahead of him. It was simple._

_She reached the warehouse before he did, the second he stepped through she hit him on the back of the head. By the time he came to he was in nothing but his boxers and strapped to a table. Above him rested a large circular saw._

_He’d obviously been expecting this day to come, because he was rambling before she even opened her mouth. She was covered head-to-toe, she could be any one of them._

_He admitted almost immediately and, by the Director’s orders, that was reward with a knife slicing into a few layers of skin across his chest. The first line in the academy’s emblem…the first of many._

_Two hours in and she could almost see his ribcage through the cuts she given him, the insignia was complete and now she just had to kill him._

_“They’ve been lying to you.” He was sobbing, mucus running out of his nose and he’d both wet and soiled himself, and she hadn’t spoken a single word yet._

_“Everybody lies.”_

_Then there was nothing but silence and blood. She was sure she saw him smile at the end and had initially assumed his brain had shown him something nice before it shut down._

_Upon reflection, she was sure it was relief she saw._

_The last stage, the final piece had thankfully come when he was dead - the reason for the saw that had been dangling above him. She turned her head and resisted the urge to vomit as she powered the blade and lowered it to his neck._

_Blood sprayed everywhere, the sound of bone cracking made her want to cry. There are just some things you can’t prepare a person for. She would never be the same person again, she realised as she placed his decapitated head on his chest, in the centre of the insignia._

_She glanced back at her work one last time before leaving, she stared down at her hands as she walked away. More blood she could never wash off._

_If the academy had been planning to turn her into a monster, they had been successful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said at the end of the last chapter a lot of my own personal feelings went into this, so I've no plans to do anything more with this, it is what it is. Take it or leave it.
> 
> I know the Big Dig quest is glossed over in this, the quest itself wasn't what was important, it was her actions at the end.
> 
> Sorry for the super amount of angst, we've been going through a lot of it recently. I'm hoping things will cheer up soon.
> 
> I write this for myself, and for you, so thank you for being here xx


	34. Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like she was a dam, someone put too much pressure on her and eventually, she exploded. He just stood there awkwardly as she cried at his feet, she was on her knees - the weight on her shoulders finally breaking her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan had been to post this on Christmas Eve and give you people a present for Christmas Day...obviously that didn't happen.
> 
> On the bright side, we're back to a little smut - just not the smut most of you want =]
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Wicked Games - The Weeknd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1OTWCd40bc))

_If you have tears, prepare to shed them now._

 

Hancock’s had plenty of women fall into his arms, some of them drunk, some of them looking for a good time. But he can honestly say, hand on heart, _this_ had never happened before.

He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the fact that she had come grovelling to him despite him using her to help deal with Bobbie, or the fact she was openly crying in front of him. She always hid it before, but it seemed Sunshine was finally sick of hiding.

It was like she was a dam, someone put too much pressure on her and eventually, she exploded. Hancock never dealt with emotion well, he’d learnt to bury his long ago, and he's never be one that people could describe as ‘a shoulder to cry on’. He just stood there awkwardly as she cried at his feet, she was on her knees - the weight on her shoulders finally breaking her.

“I failed, I failed, John….I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

She’d already apologised repeatedly and at that point he wasn’t sure who she was apologising to. Evidently Sunshine felt the need to say sorry to a lot of people. He pulled her to her feet and just held her, because there was nothing more he _could_ do.

He let her cry into his chest, just like he did the night before, once again not mentioning that tears that left her. At least he knew why now, though Hancock wasn’t sure that it made it any easier to deal with.

“ _Sixty_ …I, I can’t even…”

He dragged her to the couch, holding her up with one arm wrapped around her waist. She’d come to him physically injured plenty of times, he’d never seen her this way before though. He offered her more chems and she didn’t hesitate. He figured it helped allow her to give in to the numbness she was desperate to feel and stop her crying and truly open up to him.

“And the Railroad _knew_ , they knew who Kellogg was this whole time…He had so many opportunities to tell me, and he never did.”

“Did you ever ask yourself why?” 

“Because he’s a coward,” she replied sternly, and she didn’t think she could be persuaded to change her mind.

“With good reason,” he huffed.

“Are-you’re not seriously defending him, are you?” _Unbelievable,_ and after he spent so much time warning her about him. They didn’t sound like that at the time, but she realised now that Hancock had been trying to warn her about getting close to him.

Deacon and her deserved each other really, they were both poison the world was better off without.

Hancock wasn’t exactly known for his rational side, but he had one. He figured the best time to rationalise with someone like Sunshine was to wait until she was nice and relaxed (preferably sedated), he figured two canisters of Jet ought to be enough.

“Look, you’ve known the sort of person he was since the beginning. Despite all the nice little surprises along the way, you can’t be all that shocked this happened. You said so yourself, he knows more about the Institute than anyone else. Bringing up the name at that particular moment in front of him might have been a bad idea also.”

“He wanted to know something about me, and I was finally ready to tell someone. It wasn’t long after I realised he saved my life, again, and I thought he should know why I found the Railroad in the first place.” She was giving him what he wanted, she was being nice to him. What Deacon did (or didn’t do) was just plain cruel.

“The man tried extremely hard to get you to notice the Railroad, maybe he was worried, that after so long, you’d leave if he told you. Which, and far be it from me to judge, that’s pretty much what you did.”

“But he _didn’t_ tell me, Kellogg did, or at least pointed me in the right direction. Deacon had no choice _but_ to tell me because he knew what was at stake. I just killed the one mercenary none of them could even find, and in the end I didn’t even need the Railroad to do it. I just needed a loudmouthed reporter and a synth detective.”

“And if you do need them somewhere down the line, what are you gonna do then?”

“I haven’t _quit_ the Railroad John, I’m just…on leave, I guess. It’s not like they’ve got anything important going on right now.”

“I’m sorry Sunshine.”

“Why are you sorry? If anything I should be apologising to you.”

She did, about ten times.

“If you didn’t spend so much time looking after me, you’d probably get a lot more work done.”

“Can’t think of anything more important than a damsel in distress.”

“I-“ she went to protest but deep down she knew that she was, at that moment at least. “Do I ever actually say thank you?”

“Not always word for word but in your own little way, yeah.”

“Well, _thank you_ , John. I’d be completely lost without you.”

“Same here, love. Spend most of my time worrying about you, moments like this just prove my point.”

“Is that why you’re so happy to let me stay here?”

“You keep leaving clothes here because you’re ‘slowly moving in’ and I told you, there aint nothin slow about me.”

“You’d really let me stay here forever?”

“Of the people, for the people. You’re one of us now, Sunshine, have been for quite some time. I aint gonna abandon you when you need me most.”

The chems weren’t doing much to help, in her opinion anyway. She felt numb, which was no surprise giving she had about three canisters of Jet flowing through her but her head was still swimming. 

The high was a good distraction, Hancock had helped but she needed something more. Something she couldn’t get because

_Hell, I can’t do that with John,_ and MacCready was - _shit_.

On top of everything else she felt she now had to add the guilt of leaving her best friend. She suspected he would travel back with Fahrenheit and the rest of the guards that were there. She was still aware of Hancock’s role in the whole thing but she couldn’t bring it up, not now. Not whilst he was putting so much effort into making her feel better, the last thing she wanted was to make him feel bad.

She didn’t want to push away her last anchor to the world.

A few hours past before Fahrenheit marched into the office, not even the slightest bit surprised to find her there.

“I brought your friend back with me.” Even Fahrenheit was looking at her sympathetically, and that was too much to handle. “Told me to tell you the number fifteen…whatever the fuck that means, but he said you’d understand.”

She did, and just like always, MacCready was there when she needed him. The perfect distraction.

One look at Hancock and he understood. Though in his opinion it was a stupid thing to do, he could hardly stop her from doing whatever she wanted. He never did before, why start now?

“Think you owe him an explanation for running out on him, that’s usually the man’s job.” He offered her the excuse, she planted a kiss on his ruined cheek in gratitude and slowly got to her feet.

“Alright there, Sunshine?” asked Hancock after she stumbled two or three times.

“I’m fine.”

Sunshine liked to say that a lot when she was the complete opposite, one look and a hand gesture towards his trusted bodyguard and she (reluctantly) helped Sunshine down the stairs and out the door. If he had the energy he would have stood up and watched her from the balcony, just to make sure she got to her destination in one piece.

If she needed to do something stupid to shield her further from reality then Goodneighbor was the perfect place for her to do that. The world had thrown a lot at her, more so recently, if she needed to run into the arms of her best friend that was her business. The important thing was that she came to him first.

 

* * * *

 

She came crashing through the door and slammed it shut behind her. The shock that went through him was similar to when she slammed the door shut back in her house in Sanctuary and he knew where it was going before he turned around.

He was half stood to attention when she took the crap off her face. He would never get over it but it was particularly difficult to be sensible and rational when she started planting kisses over his neck and pushing her hips into his when her teeth clenched at his pulse points. He couldn’t control the growl that left his mouth, or the fact that he pushed his hips back into her. He’d shown his cards and now she knew she had him.

He hadn’t rented the room for this particular intention, he just figured they needed to talk and the Third Rail hardly seemed like the place.

“We-“ he was cut off mid-protest when she used his open mouth to her advantage and shoved her tongue in, her hand was skilfully pulling away his belt.

“I know,” she spoke against his mouth and then kissed him harder.

Her hands grabbed the lapel of his coat in desperation before tearing it off his shoulders. She smirked, pushed him onto the bed and climbed over his legs.

“Seriously,” yet his hands still went to her hips.

“I know,” she repeated, her hands worked nimbly to unbutton his shirt. When she popped the last button through the hole she flung it open and leant forward as her hands trailed up his body, scrapping nails against his flesh when she travelled back down. 

“If it makes you feel better,” she shuffled down his legs slightly and leant even closer to him. He chuckled when he felt her breath against his skin - it tickled - but it quickly turned to a hiss the second she kissed his torso. “You can pretend I’m her.”

She trailed kisses all the way up his torso, paying extra attention to every scar he’d got since travelling with her (most of them were _from_ her). She didn’t want to think about Cait, or Deacon, she didn’t want to think about anything. She just wanted to feel something good, and she could only trust him to give it to her right now. 

“What?”

She always read into things more than she needed to, he knew what she thought the second he came back and saw what she had done to his house, he just never got the chance to tell her it wasn’t what she thought. The second he left Goodneighbor (the last time this happened) he knew their relationship had changed and the whole journey back to Sanctuary consisted of him dealing with it, because they always said; it was what it was. The same could be said for the thing he had going with Cait. Cait was fun - in every sense of the word - and they had grown closer since she arrived. Which couldn’t have surprised her, after all she sent Cait to Sanctuary so he could help her.

He peeled her away from his torso to tell her just that. She avoided his gaze for a moment, sighed and then looked at him. _Really_ looked at him _._ He could see it, hidden behind the eyes that showed everything, something had happened; something bad.

_I need you_.

It certainly answered some questions he had, why she had asked him to meet her here, why she had dragged him into a mission with a woman neither of them trusted. What she did to said woman…and why she went running off.

He didn’t make another protest, he didn’t say anything. The hand pressed softly against the back of her neck tightened its hold and dragged her face to his. She sighed again at the feel of his lips, almost sounded like relief, and she happily opened her mouth for him when his tongue glided across her bottom lip. 

It was different from last time, it didn’t feel quite as odd - maybe because they had time to get used to their new relationship. It was hot, desperate and everything she hoped it would be. He moved the hand on her neck downwards to go in-between her thighs and he almost choked on the kiss when he felt her wetness dripping on his fingers.

“D-did you plan this?” The fact she was wearing a dress should have answered that question for him. He’d never seen her in one before.

Bashful. That was the only word he could use to describe her expression at that moment.

“What happened?” he asked as he pulled her dress even further up her thighs. 

Her hands pulled down his trousers, along with his underwear. He rubbed her thighs gently, with longing, she sat up on her knees and hovered her cunt above his dick.

“Not now,” she bit her lip, so did he, when she started sliding down on his cock. He held his breath, she closed her eyes - still as tight as ever - and he exhaled when he was fully inside her. “After.”

_I just need you right now._

_You._ And no one else.

If he ever doubted that she cared then her eyes proved every moment wrong. There were plenty of people in the Commonwealth who would quite happily have sex with her, Hancock said all sorts of things about her when she wasn’t around and why else would Deacon have followed her around all this time? But no, out of everyone she could have gone to, she went to him. When she wrote to him it was because she needed him. Because he knew her like no one else.

Normally she rode him faster than a vertibird during take-off but she was taking her time with him. Her hips rocked slowly, but not lazily, back and forth, her hands were in her hair and she had her eyes closed. The gentleness of his touch matched that of her movements and he moved his hips in rhythm with hers.

She was close, closer than she should be (seeing how they only just got started) and she loved that MacCready was the one under her. At least she knew she could trust _him_. 

This time when she closed her eyes she saw nothing. This was what it should have been like the last time; just them. They shouldn’t be doing it because she needed it, they should have been doing it because they missed each other. She had missed him, missed who she was when she was with him. Her life seemed far less complicated with him around.

This sort of thing had happened before, parameters of a mission changed all the time but she didn’t understand why Shaun’s sudden age change hurt her so much, because it did hurt, but after speaking with Hancock she knew it wasn’t the situation with Shaun that bothered her, she’d always said in the back of her head there was a chance he wasn’t a baby anymore. It was because of Deacon.

After all the shit they put each other through in the beginning, how far they’d come since they met outside Boston Library. After her conversation with Piper, back when she didn’t know, she realised all her conversations with Deacon had in fact been real, he knew more about her than anyone now and a part of her didn’t care. Not back then at least, because he’d done a lot for her and he was the one who convinced them to split the serum between her and Austin because he knew she’d never let them do it. 

Then she started to dream about him, after that every nerve in her body came alive at the sight of him and his voice got her going in ways she didn’t think possible. And when she started sleeping next to him in HQ, yes Glory had dared her, but she was thinking…she didn’t even know.

But now she knew what he’d been hiding from her this entire time and she realised he hadn’t done any of that to be nice, he’d done it because he felt guilty. Their entire partnership was based on lies, which shouldn’t have hurt her as much as it did.

But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew Deacon would find her eventually, but until then the only man in her life she cared about was the man underneath her. His touch was familiar, safe, and exactly what she needed. MacCready always did give her what she needed, he really was her best friend.

When she knew she was only a few movements away from unravelling she stopped and laid her chest against his. She laid completely still, her face buried in his neck and he knew she was just inhaling the scent of him - to make sure he hadn’t changed - and he felt her sigh at the familiarity of it. He hugged her tight before releasing her and running his hands gently over her back. He buried his face in her hair, and just as she had done, inhaled the smell of her. Hubflowers, gunpowder and just a hint of blood. Plus the smoke that came from spending time with Hancock. She hadn’t changed either.

She slowly circled her hips again, their bodies still pressed together, but moved with no real motive. Every time she felt herself build up she stopped, around the sixth time she looked up at him, his hands automatically cupped her face at her expression and he realised what she was doing.

_She’s punishing herself._

She wasn’t letting herself finish because she didn’t think she deserved to feel something good. Now, MacCready knew the boss, better than she liked to think, and if there was ever someone in the world who deserved to feel good it was the woman in his arms.

Plus, he won’t lie, the fact that he was still _very_ hard and turned on was also a factor in wanting her to do something. Anything.

For most people, when they feel helpless they try to hold on to any ounce of control that they can, but not her. He knew exactly what she needed. Still completely inside her, because she was so tight they might as well have been glued together, he flipped their positions. The smile on her face told him she was remembering the same thing he was; their last night together in Sanctuary. Before Castle. Before the Railroad. Before all of it.

He held her hands above her head with one hand whilst the other moved her legs to angle himself deeper. He moved his hand to join the other and held a tight grip on her wrists as he pushed deeper into her, fucking her slowly but hard, before picking up the rhythm.

The headboard banged against the wall, so did the guy next door, he could feel the dust from the ceiling light fall on his back and the woman underneath him was screaming his name extremely loudly. He kissed her just to muffle the sound.

“I think Clair will charge us for this,” he joked against her mouth.

“Let her,” she pushed her hips down against him.

It was like there was this look on her face, asking him to do one thing. _Fuck me until I forget who I am_. And as God was his witness, MacCready was trying. She’d come twice now, she’d told him as much, but she was still good to go and evidently so was he.

By the time he did come she had him beat by four-to-one. They were both sweaty, both gasping for breath and both incredibly satisfied and comfortable. He laid with his back against the headboard, his best friend wrapped in one arm, her head comfortably resting on his chest. 

Her fingers danced on his stomach, playing the keys to ‘their song’ even though he’d never heard it. She said it wasn’t on any radio station she could get in range of and he had yet to find a piano. She reached the end and took a deep breath and MacCready knew she was ready.

“I finally went to see Valentine, I told him everything,” well, not everything. “He pointed me in the direction of a man named Kellogg - that’s why I came back to Sanctuary, so I could get Dogmeat and track the bastard down. It was why I sent him,”she didn’t want to say his name, “a message in the first place, but by the time he arrived we’d already figured out that the vault was a no-go.”

She sniffled, a quaked breath leaving her as she tried desperately not to cry when she remembered what happened next…it hurt more now she knew why.

“Cutting a long story short, I ended up going with Nick,” she hated how hurt he looked that she hadn’t included him in any of it, and she hated that he was trying to hide it from her. “Firstly, you were nowhere to be found and Valentine and I made a deal, which,” she gasped in excitement at the prospect of telling him and then hated herself from getting away from her initial point, “is another story for later…We found Kellogg. He was like me.”

She’d never said it out loud before.

“A mercenary. Paid to do his job and not ask questions. Nick’s more resilient than other people, and he knew Kellogg. They recognised each other.”

Frozen TV dinner, she still hated the bastard for it.

“He wanted me to kill him, I could see it in his eyes. He was barely human, I mean _literally_.” She happily skipped over the part where she told Kellogg the truth and then shot him in the head, MacCready didn’t need to know _that_ bit. “He told me Shaun was older than I thought, I mean I always considered the possibility that some time had past between him being taken and me waking up. But I never thought…”

She sighed and kissed the scar underneath his left pectoral. He twitched at the feel of her, she always knew it made him ticklish.

“I went back to the Railroad, asked them what they knew about Kellogg and the vault…and then I was told a story.”

Every time she thought about it her insides burned. MacCready knew full well that by ‘the Railroad’ she meant Deacon but he ignored it.

“Kellogg and two other people were spotted going into Vault 111,” MacCready felt the tear hit his skin and he dragged her up to look at him.

He’d seen her look a lot of things; angry, sad, happy, horny, crazy. But her face had never looked like it did right then, she looked destroyed. Even four orgasms hadn’t made her feel any better.

“Over sixty years ago.” She felt physically sick as the words left her mouth, she felt all of it, the lies, the time wasted, the mission she’d failed.

He couldn’t control it, his jaw just dropped and his mouth fell open. How many things can the world throw at one person before they throw in the towel? She was falling off the deep end and she knew he’d be the one to keep her going. He was slowly repaying the debt he long since owed her. He held her tight, tighter than he’d ever done before and she broke. That was twice now, in less than six hours. 

There was no one she would ever trust more than him, the first mercenary she ever hired. Her first best friend. Her first everything. If there was ever a rock when she needed one, he was there to help her hold on.

“I failed,” she sobbed. “I failed to get him back to his parents, I failed to save him. If he’s alive then there’s a _huge_ chance he’s been locked away with the Institute the whole time, they’ve probably brainwashed the crap out of him and if he’s…” she didn’t want to say it out loud. “Either way, I failed. The baby I swore to protect is gone, I’m left with either an old man or a ghost.”

“But you haven’t failed in finding him yet. Yeah, you’ve been _incredibly_ stubborn along the way,” and didn't he just know it. “But you’ve come this far, and even if you don’t find him, you can still find the Institute. If Shaun’s not there, then you end the people who took him from you - just like you did with Kellogg.”

“Plus it doesn’t hurt that _everyone_ would love me if I did that?” she sniffed and wiped her face with her hand. 

_No one should look this beautiful when they cry_. He would never get over the fact that her make-up was a permanent feature. One time she actually got her hands on some lipstick so he could have the mental image of it smeared over his dick and her smiling up at him. 

“I think everyone loves you anyway,” _even the people we aren’t mentioning_. “But yeah, a lot of people would certainly sleep better at night.”

“You sound like Preston,” she yawned.

“What do you need to do next?”

“I’m meeting Nick back here in Goodneighbor in five days. We’re going to see what Amari can do with whatever it is I found i- _on_ Kellogg.”

Again, MacCready didn’t need to know she pulled it out of his brain.

“Nick’s curious, and the whole being a synth thing might come in handy,” she added at his silent question. She definitely needed to play poker with him one day, though she felt bad at the thought of taking all his caps after _she_ worked so hard to get them.

She was glad he was here, after being apart for so long, after the last time they were in Goodneighbor and they both felt the shift in their relationship. So much had changed, but in that moment, they felt the same as they ever did and it was like MacCready never left her side.

“‘Back here?’” he quoted.

“We both know I can’t ask you to stay here, and I won’t survive in Goodneighbor on my own for five days. John and Kent do nothing but enable me and Daisy’s got to go to sleep at some point. So there’s only one place I can go where I’m safe.”

The smile she gave him told him how that sentence ended.

“Anything new with you?” She’d forgotten to ask how he was doing.

“Me? Not really, though there was a bit of a situation when I got back to Sanctuary.”

“What sort of situation?” She had a slight inkling that it was about his house.

“Curie asked if there was a way to make her human.”

“Wha-“ well, it wasn’t on the list of things she was expecting. “I mean, I don't think anyone can make her ‘human’ but I could always run it past Amari, see if such a thing is even possible. She might be able to put her mind into a synth…I dunno. I’m not quite sure how I feel about doing that.”

“Could you just ask for me? You’re not around so everyone looks at me to solve their issues. At least this way you can tell her yourself that you asked.”

“Okay, I mean if this is what Curie really wants then I guess I could ask her before we leave. She can take one last look at my head too.”

When she woke up that morning she panicked when she realised MacCready wasn’t next to her, relief washed over a minute later when he opened the door, a tray of food in hand.

“You’ve got a long walk ahead of you.” He explained when he placed the tray on her lap.

“What do you mean? Are-are you not coming with me?”

“I’m gonna meet you there, your caravan caught me on the way to a settlement. I’ve still got to go check in on it.”

“I-I could come with you?” He hated the pleading in her voice, because he knew he couldn’t give into it.

Whilst she did need the food he actually brought it into the room to cover up the fact that he’d been up for hours. He’d gone to the Old State House to talk to Hancock.

“You _need_ to get to Sanctuary, I’ll only be a few hours after you. Hancock’s gonna take you.”

She smelled a plan, but she couldn’t protest. The two most important people in her life were trying to help her, she couldn’t be mad at them.

“I trust you RJ,” _whatever you’re planning._

 

* * * *

 

Anyone who knows her knows she’s in and out of Goodneighbor more times than any other place so it was only a matter of time before Deacon came looking for her and MacCready was determined to get her out of town before their paths crossed.

“Hancock, we gotta talk.”

MacCready hadn’t been in Hancock’s office very often, the smokey air didn’t come as a surprise but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the chems littered the table, and the floor. She must have been in Goodneighbor for longer than he thought.

“I hope you gotta plan,” he took another puff of his cigarette as he stared out into the night sky. The sun was coming up on her third day away from the Railroad and he knew there was only so long Deacon was going to wait. MacCready knew it too, why else would he be in his office?

He did, and he didn’t have long to discuss it. 

“She wants to go to Sanctuary, you need to take her there.”

“Why me?” His cigarette dropped out of his mouth and fell over the balcony.

“Because you wanna get out of town, and I wanna deal with Deacon myself.”

“You know I can’t just let you kill him, right?”

“I know that, I don’t plan on killing him. I’m just gonna talk to the guy.”

Hancock eyed him knowingly. “Yeah, right. Well, whatever you talk about, do it up here. I can’t have Charlie moaning to me about the cost of replacing furniture. You know, because glass breaks when you ‘talk’ at a certain frequency.”

Daisy’s screams had shook his windows on multiple occasions.

“Hancock, did you know she was still going to Amari to get her head looked at?”

“I guessed as much, but she never said anything. Personally, I think she’s just being over cautious.”

“Still, you should really keep an eye on that.”

“Just tell me when we need to leave.”

“As soon as you’re ready. We both know Deacon’s gonna come straight here and we both know she can’t be here when he does.”

“Just let me grab my gun, gimme five minutes with Far. and I’ll be there.”

“I owe you one Hancock,”

“You don’t owe me anything kid, I‘m not doing this for you.”

“I know, same here.”

“Did you ever imagine we’d be in this situation?”

“What? Caring for a two-hundred and twenty-five year old vault-dweller? It wasn’t exactly on my bucket list.”

“Mine neither,” chuckled Hancock. “Wouldn’t go back and change it though, you?”

“Not for a second.” 

The Mayor turned to leave.

“Hey, Hancock.” He paused and turned to the young mercenary. “Look after her okay? She can get pretty scary when she gets like this.”

Though he’d never seen her in such an extreme state before, he could only conclude that her reaction would also be extreme. Hancock was in for a wild trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first planned out all the chapters I wanted to write this was supposed to be where Whisper and Deacon finally...yeah. Upon reflection, we've still got a ways to go.
> 
> Oh! And we have officially reached the end of any fss/maccready smut because they can't keep running to each other lol.
> 
> Thank you for your endless patience and support.
> 
> I love you all xx


	35. My Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine takes Hancock on a tour around Sanctuary, MacCready waits for Deacon in Goodneighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst this is always dedicated to every single one of you this particular chapter is dedicated to two readers. [Milady_Readsalot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milady_Readsalot/pseuds/Milady_Readsalot) for being a sounding board for all my shit. I hope this answers some of the questions you've been having (you're the reason I've updated so quickly.) The next reader is Logan, because you've been waiting for this reunion for an extremely long time.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [My Demons - Starset](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-N_y1bZtRw))

_Having nothing, nothing can he lose._

 

She was sat in the basement of the Memory Den, Amari had locked herself away in her office and MacCready had left to ‘check in on that settlement’.

Just as she always did Amari walked out of her office with a file in hand. She walked up to the wall light and began to hang the pictures in front of it.

“Did you find something?” She asked.

Amari shook her head. “Your scans look the same as they always do. No legions, no tears - nothing. Whatever is happening isn’t physical.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t think we might have closed off a synapse or two?”

She looked up at the scans of her head, silencing any paranoid thought that the Institute had replaced her and she just didn’t know. Amari was right, they didn’t look different from the last set, or the set before that…or the set before that…

“Not as far as I can tell, and you say this all started after your injury?”

“Ever since I woke up in the Mayor’s bed.”

“What exactly do you dream about?”

She wasn’t too worried about telling Amari, the woman was a professional and one of the few people that wasn’t scared of Hancock. Even his status as Mayor wouldn’t be enough to make Amari betray doctor-patient confidentiality.

“My past, all the things I’ve had buried for most of my life.”

Memory loss due to trauma was a real thing, her brain blocked out the things the academy didn’t in order to protect her. Her nights were peaceful, silent. Now, every time she closed her eyes she dreamt of the things she had forgotten.

It wouldn’t be a problem if they were actually useful, but they just kept her awake at night and tormented her throughout the day.

“What you went through is not unlike the memory wipe that we use on synths. Your memories have been stored in a dormant part of your brain, that piece of shrapnel might have been the key to unlocking them.”

“So, if I get hit in the head again, it could lock them back up?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, if anything it might kill you this time. You were extremely lucky you managed to survive your last one.”

“It was my first one actually.” She said almost randomly…maybe it might give reasoning to her over excessive checking.

“I know you’re not trying to tell me it was your first injury so I assume you mean you’re first _head_ injury. It’s understandable that you’re being cautious, but it’s been months now and, as far as I can tell, you’re perfectly fine.”

“Well,” she got up from the chair, “thanks doc.”

Hancock and MacCready indulged her, loved her and pretty much thought the world of her, so neither of them would listen to the idea of there being something wrong with her. Amari was a professional, liked few and loved even less, she wouldn’t lie in an attempt to make her feel better.

She was remembering everything that had successfully been blocked out, every cruel and unspeakable thing she did or was done to her. She’d forgotten just how many people she had killed.

She was lost in thought and bumped into Hancock, who was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“Ready to get this freak show on the road?” said Hancock in an attempt at humour.

“Have you ‘set your affairs’ in order?” She asked, instead of protesting that they weren’t a freak show…they kind of were.

“Far’s got the town covered, people are more scared of her than they are of me. I’m all yours, Sunshine.”

She smiled and in the back of her head hoped that MacCready had warned him about what she was like on the road. Hancock had told her he had imagined it once or twice, but she doubted that even Hancock’s mind couldn’t come with anything close to what she was really like. Especially when the monster inside was brewing to the surface.

 

* * * *

 

There's a difference between lying and omitting the truth - Deacon knew it wasn’t a valid excuse but it was the only reasoning he had. Lying to her would have been him saying he didn’t know what she was talking about when she asked about Kellogg, and he hadn’t done that. He just hadn’t said anything to her before she came to ask him, fearing she would do the exact thing she did and leave.

He woke up automatically on the seventy-eighth hour since Whisper had been gone. Three days had gone too slowly and too quickly all at the same time. Though a small part of him still didn’t want to he knew why his body had woken him up. 

He made a deal with himself, if she wasn’t back in three days he would go find her.

Glory knew where he was going the second he stood up, she’d been keeping a watchful eye on him - making sure no one else spoke to him, unless Dez demanded his attention. It was a strange thing to witness, someone dissolving into themselves, and it was almost a physical change she was witnessing.

He looked smaller, almost like a little kid waiting for his mother to come home, was it any wonder everyone else had noticed?

She’d begun to worry herself, three days was a long time for anyone to be away from HQ, especially went they weren’t on a Railroad mission and even Glory had the feeling that Whisper had run away. But Dez was oblivious, so she couldn’t have _quit_ the Railroad…maybe she did just need to get away from Deacon for a while. She could see where Whisper was coming from, news like that would knock anyone sideways but there was such a thing as don’t shoot the messenger.

As difficult as it was for him to share everything else, it was doubly difficult for Deacon to admit when he needed help. Some people would rather lose on their own than win as part of a team, which didn’t make sense to her because the Railroad _were_ a team, and Deacon was happy to be a part of it. Then again, there are few places a liar can go to seek refuge.

Sometimes the human race was too stubborn for its own good.

Without asking her to Glory set about distracting Dez whilst Deacon made his way into the escape tunnel. She was just hoping they both came back this time.

He didn't give himself time to think, all his energy went into putting one foot in front of the other - his first destination was Goodneighbor. Even if Whisper wasn’t there now, she would have gone there at some point and Deacon was hoping Hancock didn’t hate him enough not to tell him where she went.

There were still guards at the door and they let him in without a second thought, which Deacon took as a good sign. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up the moment he walked into the town. The streets weren’t what he would describe as empty, but for a place like Goodneighbor it was practically a ghost town.

It wasn’t ridiculously early, Daisy and K-L-E0 were open and the Neighbourhood watch were on patrol but there wasn’t a drifter in sight.

“The Mayor said you’d turn up.” Croaked the ghoul at the door to the Old State House before opening it for him.

Deacon wasn’t sure how to feel about that, of course he expected Hancock to know the details, he already knew Whisper would go running to him first, but there was an eerie silence in the air. 

This time he jumped when he saw Fahrenheit sat at the bottom of the stairs, there was something different about her. Something that sent a chill down his spine.

“He’s waiting for you upstairs.” Like any tactical person, Fahrenheit chose her words carefully. It was true, he was waiting upstairs - it just wasn’t Hancock she was talking about.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him that Fahrenheit was following a few steps behind him, he wouldn’t have realised if it weren’t for the movement of her armour.

He hesitated before opening the door, just in case she _was_ on the other side. He’d barely stepped over the threshold before something heavy came in contact with his cheek and he was thrown into the door.

He barely had time to register what had happened before he felt hands on his shoulders and he was thrown onto the floor. When his brain finally caught up with the rest of him MacCready was sat over him, getting ready to punch him again.

Deacon didn’t fight back, if he did it would have been over in a matter of seconds. Instead, he let the young mercenary land blow after blow on him because he knew he deserved it, and it was about time someone did it.

“Hey!” Fahrenheit tried to pull MacCready off of him before he punched into Deacon’s skull.

She separated the two men and got MacCready on his feet. No one believed that MacCready wanted to talk to Deacon.

“Boss’ orders, you can’t kill him!” She emphasised with a firm push.

“I’m not going to kill him.” Deacon was in the middle of getting to his feet, “I’m just going to get him really fucking close to the line.”

Deacon was on the floor again after an uppercut to the chin.

MacCready flew at him before Fahrenheit had a chance to stop him.

One sharp whistle from her lips and the Neighbourhood watchman who had been stood on the other side of the door came rushing in. He raised his gun at the sight of the two men fighting or, more accurately, one man letting another beat the crap out of him.

“None of that.” She looked down at the shotgun in his hands. “Just help me separate the two of them.”

“You got it, boss.”

Between the two of them it took a few minutes to completely get MacCready off Deacon - who hadn’t fought back once - MacCready was stronger than he looked.

“Are you done? Got that outta ya system?” she asked a breathless MacCready, who nodded in response. “Good, sit your ass down,”

She practically pushed him into the chair. There was a reason Hancock left her in charge.

“Now,” she looked at both of them, “you’re gonna do exactly what you told Hancock you’d do - you’re gonna talk, and if it so much as sounds like you’re fighting I will personally throw both of you over that balcony.”

They sat across from each other, arms crossed and staring one another down. MacCready refused to speak first, he wasn’t the one who had to explain himself.

 

* * * *

 

‘Pretty scary’ he had said, pretty scary. Holy hell the kid had been underselling it. He didn’t understand mood swings at the best of times, it was twice as confusing to see her go from a fragile little girl to tearing the heads off any Raider that dare try to harm her.

He had yet to raise his gun once, Sunshine usually beat him to it, and he was grateful Daisy didn’t know about this side of her. Not that the old ghoul would believe him even if he did tell her, there were some things Daisy liked to stay blind to where Sunshine was involved

“Hey, Sunshine,” he ran up to her and he was grateful her jumpsuit was black, that way he couldn’t really tell how much blood she was covered in. “Wanna take it easier on an old ghoul?”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I guess RJ didn’t warn you about this.”

“Not nearly enough it would seem.”

“You’re not going to tell Daisy, are you?” She asked like the scared little girl she was back in Goodneighbor and Hancock blinked in disbelief at the sudden change. 

_Thank hell she’s on our side._

“Course not, you know she’ll find some way to blame _me_.”

She chose to walk beside him rather than ahead of him, matched her walking pace to his and allowed him to drape his arm over her shoulders.

“So, how does it feel to be out of Goodneighbor?”

“Good, finally feel like I can breathe again.” Sunshine chuckled under her breath. “What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s usually the reverse for me.”

He smiled at her affectionately and pulled her closer into his side, she took hold of the hand that dangled over her shoulder and leant into him. Hancock would protect her from the world, she knew that.

 

* * * *

 

It’s a scary realisation that your best friend is exactly like the man you hate. Actually, hate was a strong word - MacCready didn’t _hate_ Deacon, he just really didn’t like him. It’s even scarier when you realise that the things you don’t like about him are the things you love in your best friend.

It wasn’t that he _blamed_ Deacon, it wasn’t the guy’s fault, even she knew that. But it had been a long time coming.

“Still trying to be anyone but yourself, huh?”

MacCready still remembered the first day they met, when he stumbled into Little Lamplight. It wasn’t his fault, if he hadn’t been Mayor at the time he wouldn’t have been able to stop them beating the crap out of him. Adults weren’t trusted in Little Lamplight and even then MacCready suspected they had more than just his age as a reason not to trust him.

He had been adamant that he wasn’t going to speak first, but it had been five minutes of nothing but intent staring. Deacon was easier to read than she was, the torment was pretty obvious and a part of MacCready thought it was well deserving, after all he did follow her for an obscene amount of time. But he was carrying guilt MacCready knew he shouldn’t be, yeah he was an asshole for not telling her but if anyone understood how she reacted to bad news it was him. In the back of his head he gave thought to Hancock and how he was coping.

“Still killing people for caps?” retorted Deacon.

MacCready let that one go, somewhat, after all he did just punch the hell out of him and Deacon didn’t retaliate.

“I left the Gunners a long time ago, but then again, you already know that. I suspect you know more than you’ve ever told anyone. So, what happened?”

MacCready didn't give him time to reply, mainly because he knew Deacon wouldn’t.

“You saw her coming out of the vault, you followed her. A lot. You got what you wanted, she went to the Railroad and then you shat on her life. That pretty much sum it up?”

He was trying to remind himself that Deacon wasn’t to blame, though he suspected she wouldn’t be so devastated if she’d never gone to the Railroad.

“Do you ever mean to do it, poison everything you touch?” He was just being cruel now, because his best friend was hurting and there was finally someone he could take it out on. She’d get over everything else, in time, but MacCready wasn’t sure she’d ever get over the feeling of Deacon betraying her.

At first MacCready thought his friendship with Cait had changed their relationship, now he realised that it wasn’t him at all. It was her, she had fallen for Deacon, and hard. Looking at the destroyed man in front of him made him realise it was the same for Deacon too, they liked each other and were both too stubborn, and too busy lying, to admit it. Even to themselves.

Deacon remained silent, he had no words. He didn’t mean to do it at all, it was just something that happened. He must have really pissed off the universe in a former life for him to suffer this badly. MacCready was right, he really did poison everything he touched.

It was easy to say they were both hurting equally, and for pretty much the same reason. The real reason she was upset was because Deacon didn’t tell her and Deacon was upset because he had to be the one to tell her.

This had disaster written all over it.

MacCready wasn’t sure what was forcing Deacon to continue to follow her, perhaps habit, but it was clear that nothing was going to stop him from doing it.

“So, you gotta plan? Or were you just going to stand in front of her in silence?”

Deacon hadn’t given much thought to it, he’d been too focused on just finding her. _Holy crap I’ve got to talk to her_. But what did he say? Nothing he said would change a damn thing.

“Okay, so silence it is.” Sighed MacCready, it wasn’t as much fun if Deacon wasn’t fighting back. “Well, she’s on her way to Sanctuary, I am too.”

His last invitation to Sanctuary hadn’t ended well, he had no reason to think this time would fair any better. But he’d run out of options. The whole reason he left HQ was to find her, he couldn’t just give up.

“They’ve seen you before, they’ll let you in. You know, if you finally decide to put aside your pride.”

He’d said something quite similar to _her_ when it came to finally going to Diamond City. _Holy crap, and people think I’ve got a lot of pride_.

MacCready got up and left him to his thoughts. The idea of inviting him to travel together had popped into his head but it was quickly gone when he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t punch the man again. It was hardly MacCready’s fault, Deacon had a very punchable face.

 

* * * *

 

The look on Hancock’s face when he saw Sanctuary for the first time was enough to put a smile on hers.

“This place is really something Sunshine,” he sounded so proud.

“Partly thanks to you.” They’d never discussed it before.

“Least I can do for the people I can’t help.”

“Sanctuary - a good neighbour when you’re sick of Goodneighbor,” she chuckled.

“Something like that.”

Hancock certainly got a lot of strange looks for the settlers, particularly the ones who didn’t know him, though even those that knew who he was were surprised to see him. It must have also had something to do with the fact that the fancy dressed ghoul had his arm draped around their leader.

The leader they rarely saw.

Sanctuary was strange for her, most of the time she hated being there but in this particular instance she needed it. She needed to be surrounded by people that were essentially shielded from what was really happening on the streets of the Commonwealth.

Curie was the first one to properly approach them.

“Curie, RJ told me what you want. I’m looking into it,” more correctly Amari was. The doctor had said it was possible, but it might be difficult.

“That is marvellous mademoiselle, but I came to ask how _you_ are.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Have you fitted in nicely?”

“Oui, though some are nicer than others.”

“Sums up everyone sister,” piped in Hancock.

“I have noticed yes.”

“Curie, this is Hancock. Would you mind showing him where he’ll be staying? I need to check in with Codsworth.”

“Of course.”

Hancock was reluctant to follow, eyeing her questioningly.

“I’ll be okay, I just have to do this. I’ll see you tomorrow John.” She kissed him on the cheek and ran towards her old home. The home Codsworth never stopped floating around, just in case someone tried to get inside.

“Codsworth?” she shouted from the outside.

“Mum? I’m delighted - what’s wrong?” 

It was the first time she ever regretted giving him so many upgrades.

“Did Sturges do what I asked?”

“As always mum.”

“Good. I’m going inside, please don’t let anyone near the place.”

“Never do.” She went to walk past him when he spoke again. “Oh, and mum? I don’t know if this helps but, after everything we’ve gone through, I’ve always liked to think of us as family.”

“Me too, and it does. Thanks Codsworth.”

She walked into the house and locked the door behind her. She needed to live with her misery for a night.

“Mac, thank god you’re here!” Sunshine hadn’t stuck around long enough to warn him about the amount of questions he would be asked. It was knackering.

Just like he promised he was less than an hour behind them, by which time she had already gone inside the house and Hancock had been left to deal with the vultures on his own.

“Hell, sorry. I thought she’d last a little longer.”

“Has this got something to do with the house she went into? These people are fine asking me questions but sure go quiet when it’s the reverse.”

“How much do you know about her and Sanctuary?”

“I know she used to live here, with the guy she didn’t really love.” They were speaking in hushed tones, no one in Sanctuary knew who she really was.

“That’s the house she lived in. She doesn’t go in there much, she only took me in there once and that was the night she told me she was going to find the Railroad. The kid’s room is in there too.” MacCready sighed and looked over at the house his best friend was in. “She said there were demons in Sanctuary, and most of them are in that house.”

“So why the hell would she wanna lock herself in there?” The rationality was lost on him, then again Sunshine was far from rational to begin with.

“Because,” evidently, “she’s not done punishing herself.”

“She knows it’s not her fault, right?” 

Hancock reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, he took one for himself before offering the pack to MacCready, who gladly took one.

They sat down on a set of nearby steps.

“You know that, and I know that, deep down she does too, but it’s deeper than that. She knows his age isn’t her fault, but she blames herself for it happening in the first place.”

“If it never happened, she’d be dead.”

“At this point, I don’t think she really cares.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette and breathed out the smoke through his nose. “What was the last thing she said?”

“That I’d see her tomorrow.”

“Then you will. Never underestimate how much she needs you Hancock. We’re the last two people in the Commonwealth she can trust.”

And didn’t he just know it. The journey to Sanctuary had been long, once she stopped running ahead to kill everything they came across. She told him how much she depended on him, how he was an anchor for her - the other being MacCready - and he felt the pride and terrible weight that came with her confession. Hancock wasn’t used to people needing him so badly, not outside of being Mayor anyway.

“So, we just wait?” Hancock wasn’t known for his patience.

“Unless you plan on leaving her, we don’t really have a choice. Did you see where you’re staying?” He nodded. “Fancy, huh? She never said who she built it for, and I mean she actually built it - didn’t even let Sturges have a say. As soon as she decorated it I knew it was for you. She always knew you were sending people here, I think she wanted to show you what she’d accomplished. That you’d put your faith in the right person…guess that’s why she needs both of us right now.”

“So much so she’s not even here?”

“It’s enough for her to know that _we’re_ here.”

 

* * * *

 

One of the many things she hated about the house was the fact that, despite the layers upon layers of dust, it didn’t even show everything she’d been through. There wasn’t even evidence that the sonic wave of the world ending hit this far north. She knew it did because it blew over her as she descended into the vault.

The shelves on the wall were in the first thing to be pulled down. Splinters of wood pushed their way underneath her skin but she could hardly register the pain. A hammer would have made her job easier, but she wasn’t looking for easy - she didn’t even see the point, it wasn’t like the universe usually made things that easy for her.

She turned around to rest her hands on the edge of the couch. She scratched at the soft, familiar material underneath her fingers, and then in a fit of rage flipped it over. 

Still breathless she stared up at the wall, Nathaniel’s family crest still hung on the wall. She couldn’t get rid of the constant reminder on her body, but she could at least strip the last memory of him from the house.

Knowing she had no further use for such a device, she ripped the painting off the wall and threw it towards the tv. It smashed right through the screen, glass and plastic rained down on the floor.

By the time she ran out of energy she had smashed every breakable thing she could find, destroyed all the furniture she could get her hands on and emptied Deliverer’s magazine into the back wall. The house finally looked as though it had been hit by the bomb.

Her tears had been because of Deacon, her anger was at the Institute.

She was done feeling sad, almost done feeling angry. She sat in a heap on the floor, breathed heavily through her nose and willed herself to forget. She slowly moved her head and looked hauntingly down the corridor, as if a poltergeist lived in that bedroom. She would have to redecorate, she wouldn’t be bringing a baby boy home. 

In a moment of desperation she begun to tear every painting off the wall as she looked for a safe, the safe Nathaniel thought she didn’t know about. He had chems in there, she saw them once and she smiled when she saw the rare bottle of Day Tripper. She hugged it close to her chest.

_Probably the nicest thing he could have ever given me._

She took three without really taking into account how long it had been, but couldn’t find the strength to care as she felt her body melt into the carpet. Despite her better judgement, because such a thing didn’t exist at that moment, she reached for a nearby bottle of whiskey and washed down another two.

With any luck it would kill her and she could finally come face to face with Nathaniel in Hell. At the end of all this he was the one to blame, him being who he was was the whole reason she met him in the first place. If he never fell in love with her, he never would have brought Shaun to her.

Both of them deserved to rot in hell.

She had no desire to crawl into her old bed, no energy to upturn the couch so she could rest comfortably. Feeling as though she didn’t deserve that anyway, she opted to curl into a ball and fall asleep on the floor, a part of her hoping she wouldn’t wake up in the morning.

She wasn’t sure what woke her up first, the whiskey bottle hitting the ground as her relaxed body let go of it or the voice calling her name in her ear. Not Alice, not Nora - or any other alias she had come up with - her real name.

Her brain pounded against her skull as she sat up. Her eyes shot towards the kitchen when she heard the sound of a crying baby. She was watching herself keep busy in the kitchen whilst keeping a watchful eye on the new baby in her home.

Dreams were one thing, hallucinations were something else entirely.

She watched herself move to pick up Shaun, and in a puff of smoke they disappeared.

She closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to snap herself out of it. Thinking it was a good idea, but knowing it wasn’t, she righted the bottle of whiskey and took a large gulp, welcoming the pain she felt as it burned her throat.

She couldn’t have been asleep for more than a minute before the sound of laughter woke her up again. She stared down the hall and saw a spectral ten year old boy run out of Shaun’s room, another version of her running after him. He had a mop of dirty blonde hair and when he looked over in her direction she saw his blue eyes.

She heard his name leave her. Her head followed her as they ran through the living room and the other her grabbed him before they disappeared through the side door. 

Her attention was brought back to the kitchen when she caught glimpse of herself arguing with Nathaniel. Except, it wasn’t Nathaniel, sure it was an old man but it wasn’t him. She was imagining what Shaun looked like now, if he was still alive.

She couldn’t tell what the two of them were arguing about but she saw the anger written over both of them. Shaun turned to walk away, she turned towards the sink and the sound of a gunshot woke her up. 

This time she opted to stay that way.

She was exhausted, having not really slept at all, even the whiskey and chems couldn’t stop her from dreaming about an old man. Except this time it wasn’t Nathaniel, kind of looked like him but the eyes gave him away, eyes that were once a beautiful ocean looked dead and heartless. He hadn’t come back to the vault to find the mother he didn’t know, he went back to kill her. Did the Institute know the truth?…They called her the back-up… _Yeah, sixty years ago_ …If they knew, they would have tried to kill her by now.

Plus, the idea of them knowing implied that they had tailed her, and she couldn’t cope with the idea of someone else following her.

A part of her resented the fact she had actually woken up, though the universe hadn’t done her any favours so far why would it suddenly change its attitude? Then she was annoyed for telling Hancock she would see him in the morning, then she felt guilty for dragging him all the way here just to let him fend for himself.

She needed to live with her misery a little while longer, she just needed a moment to put on a face for the rest of them. The people in her settlements knew better than to ask her questions, but they all knew to avoid this particular house. It would be the main topic over breakfast if she didn’t make an appearance.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so well rested,” she stated once she was done hugging Hancock.

“Sunshine, I don’t know where you got that bed but I need that in Goodneighbor.”

“Uh-uh,” she shook her finger at him. “Firstly, I’m not dragging it anywhere, and secondly, I’m not just going to let you… _soil_ a perfectly good bed.”

Hancock brushed a ruined finger gently over her cheek and she offered him a weak smile.

“It helps, you being here.” She whispered through her smile. MacCready was right.

She looked tired, and he guessed that she hadn’t slept at all. She’d spent the night living with her demons.

“Come on, Sunshine,” he wrapped his arm around her neck, once again dragging her into a sideways hug. She was starting to get the feeling Hancock was doing it to stop her from running away. “I wanna a proper tour, real personal like.”

“Not that simple John,” she started to walk away, gesturing for him to follow. “There are some places you’re not authorised to go.” She eyed the cigarette in his mouth. “For safety reasons we’ve had to make some buildings smoke-free.”

Sunshine was quick to put on her sunglasses when she noticed the first group of settlers, which Hancock found slightly odd. She had no problem showing her face in Goodneighbor, why was her ‘proudest accomplishment’ not worthy of the honour?

“Few know the woman behind the mask, John. It’s easier that way.” _Less people get hurt._

Plus the sun was blinding her sensitive eyes.

“You gotta stop reading me like that.”

“I will when you will.” She pulled her sunglasses down just enough for him to see her wink.

“What the hell is that?” He asked, pointing at the house wrapped around the tree.

They had reached the curve in the street, along the way she had pointed to every building, explained who lived in what house, showed him Sturges’ workshop, the common house he had already seen and everything else.

“That is my house, over there is RJ’s.” She pointed at the blue house on the other side, wanting to skip over the awkwardness of him asking to go up there and her saying no.

She saw the confusion flash over his face and continued her tour. Hancock changed his mind about asking her a question, and this time she didn’t do him the favour of answering him anyway. She wanted to keep at least some things to herself, and she didn’t want to lie to Hancock.

MacCready came running out of his house when they walked past, wrapping her in his arms from behind when he caught up with them.

“How you doing?”

“I’m fine, RJ.”

The smile on her face was so weak it was pointless.

“You do realise I know what it means when you say that.”

“I taught you too well, young grasshopper.” She landed a delicate hand on his cheek, laughing slightly as she saw him wonder what a grasshopper was. “I’ve got until tomorrow morning to pull myself together, just give me the time and I’ll be okay.”

“Anything, you know that. I was thinking we should take Curie with us when we go back to Goodneighbor.”

A hesitant, delicate smile crept over her face when she resisted the words he used.

“You’re coming back with us?”

“‘Course,” he took hold of her hands. “Listen, I know at the beginning I said this was your thing, but I kinda just meant with the Railroad. You’ve helped me, a lot, the least I can do is help you.”

“Thanks RJ,” she looked down at his hands and noticed how beaten up they looked. She lifted one closer to her eye to examine it further. “Did you run into trouble?”

He caught Hancock’s eye and looked away a fraction of a second before she looked up at him, luckily it was enough time for it to go unnoticed by her.

“Something like that.”

“You should be more careful,” she moved to give his other hand the once-over. “I don’t want to start having to cover you in bubblewrap.”

If Deacon cared about her as much as MacCready suspected then he would reach Sanctuary, if he put aside his pride long enough. She’d see his face and eventually put two and two together, but until then he opted not to tell her, praying she wouldn’t count him as just another person that lied to her.

She made it all the way through to the afternoon before she excused herself, hugging MacCready and Hancock before she walked back into the house. The two of them definitely helped, even it was just them distracting her, but she needed to leave before dinner. Whilst the two of them were tactile, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of them.

There weren’t enough chems or alcohol in the house to help her sleep her way through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't originally planned for MacCready and Deacon to reunite under violent circumstances, but this fic has taken a lot of twists and turns since I first thought about it. Plus, I kinda like to think of it as MacCready protecting her honour, because he's sweet like that.
> 
> I know I say I don't have set dates for when I post a new chapter but I actually do for the next one, so keep an eye out and remember, the wait kills me as much as it kills you lol.


	36. Every Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon travels to Sanctuary to reunite with Whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I'm super nervous about posting this. Anyway, there was a reason I wanted to wait until today to update. To all my lovely followers, for all the shit things we've been through this year, as individuals and as a collective, I hope this puts a smile on your face.
> 
> Happy New Year boys and girls.
> 
> (Chapter Title: Every Lie - My Darkest Days)

_We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep._

 

Deacon was on his feet not long after the kid left, of course he couldn’t leave without Fahrenheit checking him over.

“Showed some real restraint, not fighting back.”

Restraint, yeah, that's what it was. It had nothing to do with the fact that Deacon knew he deserved it.

“Did Hancock really say not to kill me?”

Would have saved a lot of heartache if he hadn’t.

“Yeah, the man’s reckless but he’s not an idiot. Now, go get her before someone else does.”

As soon as the door closed, Deacon on the other side, Fahrenheit let out a huge breath and shook her head. She, like everyone else, definitely saw her appeal, she was a beautiful, amazing, _tough_ woman, but Fahrenheit wasn’t one to show her emotions, unlike the rest of the wild, hormone-driven morons that lived in Goodneighbor - and the rest of the Commonwealth for that matter.

MacCready called it pride, he called it cowardice, so did the voices. Deacon’s feet stopped him when he got to the crossroads of Lexington, forcing him in the other direction. He had little control over what was happening, the voices were talking and it was forcing his body to run up and down, questioning if it was a good idea.

_You’re a coward._

_She’s not going to come back to the Railroad without a little push._

_What if everyone knows and someone tries to kill you?_

_We’ve come this far, no point giving up now._

_She might not even be there, and it’s not like they’re going to tell you where she’s gone._

He picked the most rational piece of advice and continued walking towards Sanctuary, though in the back of his head he was still working on a way of getting inside without going through the front gate, that would be one way to announce his presence and he wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t run away from him again.

He was coming up to Concord when the sun was finally replaced by the moon. When he was in Sanctuary Mama Murphy had told him about what Whisper had done for them, how she had saved them and killed a Deathclaw. Deacon came across the rotting corpse when he went past the museum she had found them in. 

It was something he didn’t know before, he hadn’t been following her at the time and it put a reason behind Preston’s quick decision to name her General. Something came over him and he began to walk up the small stone steps, he opted to just let his body do what it wanted. He pushed open the door to the museum and walked right into Whisper’s past, from the vivid description Mama Murphy had given him he could picture it perfectly, as it was happening in front of him.

Whisper would be cool, calculated. Though, as he noted the terminal right in the imaginary line of fire, he liked to think her curiosity would get the better of her and she would attempt to crack it, ignoring the barrage of bullets that went whizzing past her. His brain had come up with an image so real that he almost reached to touch her, but as soon as his hand rose she disappeared.

There was a story he had read once, where someone followed a yellow brick road, but Deacon’s path was not yellow, he was following a trail of corpses. He knew she could take care of herself, she’d done nothing but prove that, but it was strange, admirable almost, to think of her risking her life for a group of people she didn’t know. It was the exact reason she needed to stay with the Railroad. 

He made his way into the small room the old lady had told him they had been hiding in. Always one to give in to his curiosity (which was how he ended up in this mess in the first place) he turned to look at the terminal sat on the desk. As he went to place his hand down for balance he stopped and looked down at the perfect rectangle on the desk that hadn’t been disturbed by time.

There must have been a comic book laying there, and she must have picked it up.

He headed for the roof, his eyes immediately falling on the vertibird that had crashed into the building. He walked through the ghost of the power armour Mama Murphy told him she had to get in, the idea did make him chuckle, Whisper’s hatred of power armour was well known to him. He stood and tried to imagine what it was like for her when she ripped the minigun off its stand. It must have been one of the rare occasions that she truly felt powerful. 

He sat on the edge of the roof and watched as she shot down raider after raider, the short lived joy she must have felt before the ground opened up. Mama Murphy had seen it coming, had tried to warn her, but Deacon doubted there was a way to prepare someone for their first deathclaw. _The ground shook twice that day_ , she had said to him and he looked over the ruined edge, down to the ground and wondered what she’d been feeling as she jumped off. He doubted she was scared, Whisper (like him) got high off adrenaline. He wondered if her chase for the perfect high was the reason behind the amount of danger Whisper surrounded herself with. 

He decided that he wasn’t going anywhere tonight, he was surrounded by a time when Whisper didn’t know him, before she was even Whisper. He was sat on his bedroll, warming himself by the small fire he’d made and he moved to stare up at the sky.

Whisper talked about the stars a lot, seemed to really like them, but Deacon had never taken the time to notice before. He tried looking at them through her eyes, and finally he saw what she was talking about. The entire world around her had changed, literally, she told him the stars hadn’t, that she liked being outside. Her connection to them was like her connection to Codsworth, it was one of the few things she had from her old world that she still liked. 

He had caught sight of his reflection on the way here, his face wasn’t nearly as banged up as he thought. MacCready’s hands probably faired off worse. There were obvious bruises coming, he could pass them off as something he suffered after doing something heroic. 

He woke up as the sun crept over the horizon, the depleted fire smoked in front of him. He sat for a few minutes before ultimately packing up, it was time to get this over with.

He came up on the east side of Sanctuary, from what he could see the wall went all the way around but as he travelled northwards he found the small pathway that, on his right, led to Vault 111 and to his left was Sanctuary.

This was his second trip to the settlement and both times it had sucked. The first time had been for Whisper to, unintentionally, set his guilt in further. But the second time, this time, he trenched through radiated water in order to go around the border of the small village and avoid anyone seeing him, he remembered which house was hers and he remembered the back door.

His entire being was all but round the corner when he spotted her and he quickly concealed himself just enough to be able to see her. Her legs were crossed at the knee, a bare foot bounced restlessly in the air. Deacon had never seen her in a dress before, she looked nice, the pale pink of it suited her. Her hands were in her lap, her fingers dancing against themselves. Her face was bare, and even from this distance, even though she’s wasn’t looking at him, he could feel her eyes penetrate his soul. 

His heart fell on the sad, angry, confused expression she wore. He’d come this far, travelled all this way, and had certainly invested too much time in her to turn back now. He disappeared around the corner entirely to give himself the once-over.

_Sunglasses? Check._

As he got closer he realised how tired she looked, he hadn’t been sleeping well either.

She was lost in the endless voices when a shadow overcast her, she looked up confused. She blinked and her expression changed, the torment and sorrow were gone and she looked at him with dead eyes. He couldn’t read a thing on her.

“Hi.”

The first thing she noticed was the angry red marks over his face, suddenly MacCready’s beaten up hands and the look he gave Hancock made sense. Her immediate reaction was to roll her eyes at the brutality of the male gender, but she didn’t when she realised that she was basically wired the same way.

It was the same as the previous night, her demons kept her awake, it was still early. She wasn’t sure of the exact time but it hadn’t been long since the sun rose.

She wasn’t remotely surprised to see him, knowing full well he’d come to find her; he always did. He’d spent most of _her_ life in the Commonwealth following her the fuck around and she was pissed. She just wanted to be left alone. Codsworth stopped everyone that even tried to get near the front door, but Deacon was too clever for his own good. She should never have brought him to Sanctuary.

The past week had been an emotional rollercoaster. She had just wanted to do something fun, with her best friend and blow off steam. But then everything with Bobbi happened, she still wasn’t sure what had happened but the aftermath told her enough and she ran back to the arms of her favourite Mayor, where all her emotions came out and she couldn’t stop herself from crying. 

It was the first time she cried openly in front of Hancock and whilst it was a slight relief, it was as awkward for her as it was for him. But he didn’t say a word, he simply sat and held her until she ran out of tears. He was exactly what she needed, someone to hold her so she could, just for a moment, forget about everything that haunted her. 

MacCready had been uncharacteristically optimistic when she told him the truth, telling her she could do anything and it wasn’t over. He was right in a way and, for his sake, she put on a brave face. But there was no ignoring the truth anymore now that Deacon was stood in front of her. The reason for her misery, though she didn’t find as much satisfaction in seeing him tormented as she thought she would.

After everything…what they’d been putting each other through, how they grew closer ever since Boston Library…

She had been an idiot, she actually thought Deacon was her chance at finding happiness, but it had been a lie. Everything he’d done for her had just been because of the guilt he felt, not because he cared about her.

She stood up and pressed her hands down her dress in an effort to straighten it out,

“You’d better come inside,” she gestured towards the back door with her entire body, refusing to look at him. 

The house looked worse off than it did when he was last here, it was obvious that Whisper had taken her anger out on the furniture. The only thing that stood right was the counter in the kitchen, and that was mainly because it was bolted to the wall and he doubted that even Whisper was that strong.

Bulletproof, soundproof - everything she needed when having Deacon step foot inside the house. A part of her was hoping her demons, along with his, swallowed him whole. MacCready understood, he always understood and she was sure Hancock did too. Deacon, however, could never just leave things alone.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you’re here,” she stated as she shut and locked the backdoor behind her.

The turn of the lock shot right through him, it sounded like the final bell and he wondered for a moment if Whisper was going to kill him. He doubted he’d defend himself if she pointed a gun at him.

“I was worried Preston might have kidnapped my partner.” He hoped it sounded as casual as he was aiming.

She didn’t invite him to sit down so he didn’t, he just stood a few metres away when she turned back to face him. There was a quiver in her lip, a glint of sadness in her eyes and a hitch in her breath before she went back to her blank stare.

She’d missed him, and she hated herself for it.

“Well, you’ve always had a penchant for following me around.”

All his lies and little stories paled in comparison to the truth around Shaun’s kidnapping. Their meeting in Diamond City had been over a month ago, he’d kept it from her the entire time and he had no right, it was her mission, her story and he should have told her. A small part of her was glad to know, at least she could prepare herself. But that small part disappeared the moment he walked so fucking casually up to her. Like nothing had changed and this time she refused to play along with his shit. If Deacon wanted to have this conversation, fine, they were damn well going to have it.

_Game on, you son of a bitch._

“Thirty-nine days,” she stated, knowing she didn’t need to expand - Deacon knew exactly what she was saying.

He knew how long it had been, he’d been counting the entire time and he hated himself for it too. If he could just explain, say the one thing he came here to say, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. Nothing he wanted to say was coming out, just some strange gargling noises as he tried to say _something_.

_This is going well._

He was even more lost for words when she took a step forward. He still wasn’t sure if she was going to kill him.

“Why are you really here?” 

When she took another step forward he knew what she was really doing; she was reading him. She could tell he was sorry, it was probably the reason he came to Sanctuary in the first place but she didn’t care, his apology changed nothing. After everything she’d shown him, he still hide it from her.

“Are you here on Desdemona’s behalf to see if I’m done with the Minutemen?” she was an arm’s length away from him now. “Or are you here to make sure I’m not getting fucked by MacCready? Is that it, you’re jealous?”

Whisper was the only person he knew who could shout quietly and still look like she was screaming at the top of her lungs. And it was so not true, he’d never been jealous of the kid before, so what if he got to fuck the most perfect specimen in the entire Commonwealth. And Deacon didn’t care that MacCready had also got to watch, and feel, her come undone around him…

_Well…she didn’t have to say it out loud._

“Whisp’…”

“ _Whisp…_ ” she mocked. “You? The man of a thousand words has nothing better to say than a silly little nickname.”

He knew she was lying, the corners of her mouth twitched every time he said it, and he knew no one else called her that. She liked hearing him saying it, and he liked looking at her when he did.

His lips moved but said nothing.

“Unbelievable,” she breathed. He really came all this way to find her and just stand in silence, he had nothing more to say to her?

Deacon was twice her age and yet he was acting like such a child. Of all people he should understand why she left, there weren’t enough fingers and toes to count on for the amount of times he’d said he ran. She hated herself for it, it was weak and wrong. It wasn’t her, but at the time she didn’t see it as running away, she saw it as running into the arms of someone she could trust. For the first time in her entire life, she couldn’t deal with the situation - Shaun wasn’t just older, he was old. Sixty years old, people that age were set in their ways…if she couldn’t save him then she would fail and she’d never failed a mission before. It was never an option.

She wanted nothing more than to run back into the vault, fix it, and refreeze herself. Never to wake up again. Her old life seemed simple in comparison to the time she’d spent in the Commonwealth, maybe her next life would fair a little better. She felt like a coward.

He’d prepared his words during the journey, but now he was stood in front of her, none of them were coming out and he couldn’t focus. 

“Deacon,” finally acknowledging his existence, “why, are, you, here?”

His mouth opened but only halted gasps left his mouth.

She knew the answer, she could read on him everything he wanted to say, but it didn’t mean anything unless he said it out loud. After more silence she sighed in frustration.

“See you around,” she responded as she walked towards the door. He was pathetic.

_Don’t let her go._

“Don’t.” He desperately grabbed hold of her forearm as it swung back. 

His fingers pressed into her skin, she struggled in his grip and then quickly turned round with her hand raised.

_You had no right_ said the hard slap of her hand across his face. 

He flinched in pain but still held on to her. He couldn’t let her just walk away, she had to hear what he said to say, he just had to say it first.

There was an awkward moment when they both realised she had knocked his sunglasses off. 

His free hand tried to grab for hers but she pushed him away before he could, still he got what he wanted when he had to grip her biceps to stop himself from falling backwards. 

_I’m sorry._

Her forearms raised through the air between them and she pried herself out of his grip but his hands fell back to their original position before she could attack him again.

_I don’t care._

“Get off me!” she screamed, thrashing her legs out, desperate to release herself from him. 

Instinct kicked in and she head butted his chin, he recoiled in pain, holding his mouth from fear he was bleeding. Whisper took this moment to grab the empty whiskey bottle but he grabbed her wrist before she could throw it at him.

_I fucking hate you._

The bottle fell out of her grasp as Deacon pushed her back towards the wall. He’d done it out of fear she’d hurt not only him but herself, what happened after that was in the hands of instinct and adrenaline. He used his left forearm to pin her hard against the wall and before he could control himself, his right hand folded into a fist and he raised it in the air. He noticed the flutter of her eyelids, as if she was convinced he was going to punch her but instead he punched at the wall next to her head, with so much momentum that his fist went all the way through.

Given the material that wall was made out of, the hole in it sent a chill right through her own and up her very core. His arm pressed hard against her chest still and she realised he was trying to rest against the wall through her as he steadied his breathing. They’d been in this situation before.

Only when her extremities relaxed underneath him did he take a selfish moment to look at her. Fluorescent green met an ocean of blue and time stood still. Her brow furrowed in sadness, he saw her eyes glaze over and the tiny pout she tried to hide before she blinked and everything disappeared. Her heart almost shattered when she looked at him, vibrant blue eyes so beautiful they made her want to cry, as if the very code of the universe was written in them.The new hole in the wall let in a beam of sunlight, shining on him like he was an angel, which was the last thing she wanted to think of him as. His vision was slightly impaired by the blinding light but he could still see her large pupils and he was sure she could see his, he could feel her chest moving heavily under his arm. There was less than a centimetre of air between their noses, their hot breath blending together.

The kiss happened so fast it looked like their faces crashed together, but he had stopped, creating a gap, and let her close it herself. He needed to be sure it was what she wanted and with adrenaline coursing through her, with everything that came crashing down, she did. 

She was pinned between the wall and the man trying to reach the back of her throat through the front. Deacon’s hands were in her hair, his pressed his groin into hers as his tongue fought dominantly against her own.

It’s all too real, too quick. The last time she’d had an argument in this living room, the last man to push her up against this wall. She closed her eyes and willed herself to think about anything else.

Unfortunately she could only think about how much Deacon had lied to her, how much she hated and wanted him all in that moment. She caught his bottom lip in between her teeth, hard enough to break the skin, and she watched as he tried not to moan, the way his hips pushed into her betrayed anything he was trying to hide.

She made a show of licking his blood off her lip, slowly sweeping her tongue over it and curling it up the side of her mouth to her top lip before slipping it back inside. She was proud of him for keeping a straight face.

Without waiting for permission he placed one hand on her sternum to keep her in place whilst the other reached for the switchblade in his pocket. There was a hitch in her breath and she stilled when he flicked the knife, he resisted the urge to chuckle as he buried his face in her neck and bit down on her pulse point as he sliced from the top to the bottom of her dress in one long movement. He continued to bite and suck her neck as he peeled the ruined dress off her shoulders, he looked down at the black strapless bra she was wearing and upon it he quickly bestowed the same fate as that of her dress.

_I fucking hate this woman._

His hands glided up her body, admiring every perfect curve of her, the beautiful hourglass figure that not even a skintight jumpsuit gave justice to.

His fingers trailed lines of fire on her skin as he appreciated her body, bolts of lightning coursing through her veins, and she had to resist the urge to lean into his touch when he cupped her breasts. They fit perfectly in his hands, as if she’d been designed just for him, never before had she felt so alive. He ran his thumbs across her nipples until they were rock hard. He couldn’t hide the smug look on his face when he watched goosebumps appear on her skin, betraying her composure.

He lowered himself and she struggled against him, more for dominance than to get him off but a hand was back on her sternum and he knew she wasn’t going anywhere. He felt her flinch when the cold blade pressed against her hip and she tensed when he ripped through her underwear and it fell away from her left side, clinging desperately to the skin on her right thigh as it slowly descended. He flicked her legs over his shoulders as if they were nothing, her underwear was caught just above ankle, he could feel the fabric tickle his back but he paid it no heed as he breathed gently against her exposure, he smiled at how wet she was and looked up to see her own head pointed towards the ceiling. 

He pried her legs apart and she should be embarrassed, should be pushing him off and punching him for all the shit he’d put her through, but there’s an appreciative noise coming from him when he stared at her spread out in front of him. She stopped struggling, stopped trying to fight it because despite everything, it was what she wanted.

He didn’t wait for an invitation, he attacked her clit like the bomb that started everything, the bomb that brought her to him. A hiss left her the second his tongue hit her clit and Deacon was immediately lost on the taste of her, sharp, a slight tang and something that was just so Whisper. Slow, powerful movements across every part of her, from clit, her folds, all the way down to her taint and back again. He could live on the taste of her, and she could pretend all she wanted that she wasn’t liking it but the wetness on his face - threatening to drown him - told a completely different story. 

He moved one hand away, recoiled around her thigh and he felt her push her back further into the wall and push her cunt into his face to stable herself. His tongue continued its mission whilst his free hand ghosted over her entrance and he rested his middle finger at the peak of it. He chuckled against her when he felt her hips buck at his teasing, she’d pretend it was because she was falling but they both knew what she wanted because, _Christ_ , he wanted it too. Never one to disappoint he pushed the finger inside her, curled it towards itself carefully until he felt the familiar rough skin of her pleasure spot and made a ‘come hither’ gesture inside her whilst his tongue traced calculated circles against her pulsating clit. As soon as he inserted another finger he felt it.

And he still hated her. 

She didn’t move, she didn’t make a sound but he knew she had come, she damn near suffocated him when her thighs tightened around his head. But fine, if she wanted to pretend then he was happy to keep the ruse going. He would keep going until she screamed his name. They liked to play games with each other and this was just another round. He was pretty competitive when he put his mind to it. Joke was on her, she should know by now that his silver tongue never got tired.

Ten minutes later a high-pitched gasp left her mouth. And it only took two more times, and a lot of effort on his part, to get it out of her. Her legs twitched on his shoulders and he obliged her silent request by carefully peeling her hot skin away and planting her feet on the ground. Her whole body was flushed as she was coming down, a curl of her hair had fallen onto her sweat-glistened face and he reached up to tuck it away. She closed her eyes at his touch before reopening them and changing her expression entirely. She looked like she was about to lunge at him so before she could he span her round and pushed her bare chest against the wall, more goosebumps formed on her back as she reacted to the coldness. 

He pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his rock hard dick to spring out. He reached around with one arm to pull her hips, her hands fell down the wall as her back arched, he used his other arm to guide himself to her entrance. He moved his hands to her shoulders and gripped tightly as he thrust himself inside. 

It was probably the wrong position to start off, she was tighter at this angle and his cock burned as he hilted inside her. She was tight, like two-hundred years tight. He resisted the smug smile that threatened him when he made the realisation that perhaps MacCready wasn’t all that. He gave her less than a second to get used to him and started off with a few slow thrusts, for both their sakes, before he switched to relentlessly pounding into her, pushing so deep into her that he was sure he would rip her in two. 

She was short, every part of her was proportionate and she wasn’t quite ready for someone so big, because _everything_ about Deacon was big.  As much as it hurt, how sore she would be later, she loved every second of it. It was a sense of euphoria, her life, her whole existence seemed to finally make sense. As if she’d been a puzzle this whole time and Deacon was the last piece. 

Behind her, fucking the crap out of her pussy, was the man she felt was currently responsible for her misery…Not even her best friend could give her a strong enough orgasm to help her forget…But Deacon was on his way to giving her an orgasm that would knock her unconscious.

The whiteness of her porcelain skin was almost as bright as the white of her hair. He’d never seen something so bright, the sun would come second place to her hair. If one looked close enough they would still find straight black strands, untouched by cryogenics. He only really noticed them when he took his arms off her shoulders, placed one on her hip and the other wrapped a handful of it in between his fingers, pulling painfully hard but still she didn’t make a sound. He was a little impressed, they both heard the click of her neck.

All the frustrations he had towards this woman were coming out in his thrusts. She ran, it’s what _he_ did but yeah, it kind of hurt being on the other side of that. 

_Well that’s some personal growth right there_. 

She started to push back, he could see the joints in her elbows moving, and eventually they fell into a rhythm. He glided his hands over every part of her he could, she was small but she had toned arms and solid thighs and there were no words to describe the perfect shape of her ass. Especially as it pushed back and forth against him. As he pulled back, she curled her hips forward. There was fantasy and then there was reality and in this instance, reality definitely won out.

It was hot and filthy, everything she needed. Her night with MacCready had been sweet, slow, he had helped her find herself again. But now she wanted nothing more than to be shattered into a million pieces, and she wanted Deacon to be the one to do it because she knew he’d put her back together again.

He felt her walls clench, strangle his cock, and he felt her cum roll down his balls. Adrenaline was working in their favour, making a shaking mess out of her but he was staying strong.

He could probably go on for hours.

_Are you really going to wait for her to say your name?_

It was a split second of relapse, when his grip of her hair relaxed, that Whisper took advantage of, her ass pushed painfully back against him in the hope of pushing him off but he was too alert for that. The hand in her hair moved to wrap itself around her chest, his other hand gripped tighter on her hip and he pulled her towards him, without pulling out. She had her legs bent behind her, wrapping around his legs as she was, once again, held up by the sheer strength of him. The sweat on her back mingled with the sweat of his chest. _Nature’s lubricant._ Then again her cunt was doing a good job at that too. 

He hugged her as close as he could, he leant his head around and started licking her earlobe, her head fell submissively to accommodate him. He bit down teasingly for a split second before running his teeth down her jawline. He stopped abruptly at her pulse point and once again sank his teeth down. This time hard enough to break the skin. He thought his bite had been too hard when her breath faltered but one of her hands positioned itself on the back of his head and pushed him in further. He lost count of the amount of times she’d cum already.

He didn’t know how it happened, Whisper moved so damn quickly. He only clicked on to what happened when his back hit against the wall and she was knelt down in front of him. She shuffled his jeans and underwear to his ankles, took his manhood with a tight grip and tugged slowly a few times. He felt the dot of pre-cum produce itself and he also felt the tip of her tongue glide across it. Her tongue swirled around his head before her lips encumbered him and slowly moved down. He couldn’t stop his toes from curling just as he couldn’t control his hand moving through her hair, he didn’t force her he just held it hand there, his head exploding with the thought of how far she could take him. Pretty far apparently because after a lot of gagging, and deep breaths, her nose touched his groin. She pulled away, agonisingly slowly, her teeth ran across the top of his cock as her tongue laid flat against the base of it. He leant his head back and stared at the ceiling so she wouldn’t see him bite his lip at the feel of her.

_Don’t look at her._

_…He’s going to look at her._

_…He should look at her…_

_…That’s not a good idea…_

_…She might stop…_

_…She will stop._

_Don’t look at her._

It was not okay when the voices started talking to each other.

She repeated this tantalising action over and over again and he could feel her looking up at him the entire time, _waiting_ for him to look down. When the urge to look at her became too much he gripped her hair and painfully lifted her to face him, when she was upright he pulled her head back and wrapped his other hand around her throat, his fingers pressed forcefully but safely at the pulse points of her neck. Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in shock.

_Trust me_ , he lightened his grip slightly and he saw the flash in her eyes telling him she did.

He leant forward and bit down with as much ferocity as she had, her lip stretched between his teeth as she tried to pull away. His tongue invaded her mouth as he walked her backwards towards the kitchen counter. When her back hit the side she had her hands braced upon it, already knowing what he was going to do. 

She was still breathing heavily, still coming down from the multiple orgasms he had given her. He placed one hand on her hip, ready to lift her onto the counter, and the other trailed down her stomach towards her cunt. He quickly inserted two fingers into her dripping wet entrance and immediately felt every part of her tense against him, even now she was trying to pretend she wasn’t enjoying it.

He fingered her slowly for a moment, getting a gasp out of her in return, and eventually pulled out to put her on the counter. She turned to lay sideways and sat back on her elbows, he pulled his shirt over his head before joining her.

He was inside her almost as quickly as he was the first time, she could handle it better this time, though she could still feel herself stretching around him. She looked down at him and couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect he was. Michelangelo would have trouble creating something this beautiful. His perfectly chiselled body pressed up against her, crushing her against the counter and the only thing she could do was scratch and suck on every bit of skin she could reach.

His hands gripped the edge of the sink, his hips thrusting into her slowly but hard. She can feel herself losing control again, coming undone by Deacon and she knew she was ruined for other men. No one would be able to satisfy her like him.

His pace quickened and his mouth covered hers. She knew what he was waiting for, she wanted it too. To scream his name into the empty room, tell him how amazing he felt pressed inside her, how she could feel every exquisite part of him. But she couldn’t - wouldn’t - even now, with their tongues fighting against each other for dominance, their hips pushing each other for control. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Just as she was about to come he flipped their positions, using his hands to push her hips back and forth against him, he watched in awe as her breasts bounced around uncontrollably. She leant forward and placed her hands on his chest to brace herself, he moved his hands and realised she was moving on her own. She turned away from him when her lip got caught between her teeth, she felt every delicious part of him. With his hands now free he moved them to cup her breasts, marvelling at the softness of her skin.

He bucked up into her, his pelvic bone hitting her clit and she couldn’t help but fall forward and bury her face in the crook of his neck, playing with his pulse point with her fingers on the other side and inhale the smell of him. The musky scent that came from spending his time in a crypt, the slight tang that came from the sweat forming over his body and a sweet nectar that is just so _Deacon_.

“Wh…what the fuck are you w-waiting for?” her panted breath whispered against him.

“Are you going to scream my name already?” He didn’t recognise the confidence in his voice.

“You need to make me come first.”

_Fucking liar._

He pulled her hair, forcing her head back to gain control once more. He used all the strength in his lower body to sit up underneath her, forcing her to wrap her legs around him and brace her feet on the counter. Her sweat covered body was pressed up against him and he took a moment to actually enjoy the feel of her wrapped around him. No matter what happened before, no matter what was going to happen next, he knew he wasn’t going to regret this moment, and he had a feeling Whisper wouldn’t either.

One hand reached down between them to rub her clit whilst the other couldn’t stop from finding its home around her throat. “Say my name.” He challenged through gutted teeth.

She begun to fuck herself against his hand as well as his dick and he knew she was close. Her thighs twitched against his hips, her fingers laced behind his back and she pulled him towards her. 

There was an interlude in the play, she pressed pause on the video…she could use whatever analogy she wanted but she felt the shift, and she knew Deacon did too. As soon as their lips touched she felt the wall of anger come crashing down around them and they gave in to the moment. They forgot everything they’d done to each other and touched, and kissed each other because they wanted to. It wasn’t just sex, she knew that, and she also knew that there was no way it was a one time thing either.

Not once did she need to hint, shuffle herself at a different angle, Deacon was there before she had to say a word. His hands caressed her as if they’d done so a million times before, Deacon seemed to be able to wake up parts of her she didn’t even know were there.

Deacon’s finger moved quicker against her clit and she held onto him as she finally gave him what he wanted. Her throat ached as she screamed his name, she couldn’t help it, every noise she’d been wanting to do since he first touched her just came out.

The way his name left her mouth was enough, he held a painful grip of her ass as he gave a few more erratic thrusts into her. He hesitated for a moment, whether he should pull out but when her thighs tightened around him, Her silent invitation and he wasn’t one to turn down something like this. Her pulsating walls helped empty himself into her, she slowly moved her hips to help bring new sensations. They held each other for a moment as their breathing steadied. 

Once she calmed down she leapt off him surprisingly quickly and began to redress. He followed suit and reached for his trousers. 

_Okay, sure, let’s just pretend that didn’t happen._ He had just finished pulling his t-shirt over his head when she spoke.

“Hey Deacon…” He bent down to pick up his sunglasses. “Fuck you.”

He felt his body fit the floor before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! Sorry, had to do that at the end. We just...with Deacon...so we freaked out a little lol.
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think of this. This is an extremely important chapter so I want to make it as perfect as possible.
> 
> I hope it was worth the wait, and I hope it keeps you going for future chapters. Thanks for reading xx


	37. What I've Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper and Nick go see Dr. Amari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I throw a lot at you in this chapter, just a warning. But there's some nice fluff with Hancock, because he's adorable.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [What I've Done - Linkin Park](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sgycukafqQ))

_What’s done can’t be undone._

If running away before wasn’t cowardly, it certainly was now. She stared out at Deacon’s unconscious body and her fist in disbelief, she was so shocked by what she’d done that she couldn’t even register the pain in her hand, though she knew eventually that she would feel it, along with every other body part that had just been put through the hardest workout of her life.

She picked up her destroyed clothing and dumped them in the nearest bin on her way to the bathroom. She’d never got dressed quicker than in that moment. When she was ready she made her way to the front door, she glanced back at Deacon’s crumpled body and smiled. Seven had to be a new record.

MacCready was rudely woken up by someone shaking him.

A few mumbled protests left him as his body got used to being awake.

“We need to leave.”

“Yeah, this afternoon.” He reminded her, his eyes were still closed but he knew it was her before she said a word.

“No, we need to leave _now_.”

Inner turmoil had once again reared its ugly head as she ran away from the house.

_I can’t believe you just knocked him unconscious._ Deacon was lucky she hadn’t killed him

MacCready’s body was suddenly on full alert and he bolted upright, so quickly that even she flinched.

There was a lot written on her face, still that residual pain…a look of satisfaction he found familiar mixed with a whole load of guilt and embarrassment. She was in her jumpsuit, her pack was on the floor by his bed - she was ready to go.

It didn’t take him two seconds to figure Deacon had something to do with it. Deacon actually did have the balls to go to her, the satisfied look on her made sense now - obviously their little reunion had gone well. Then again, judging by the way she kept looking down at her hand and making a fist, maybe not. He noticed how red it was.

“You _hit_ him?” Before or after he silently wondered.

“You hit him first.” She argued. MacCready’s mouth fell open in shock, though he wasn’t sure why he was surprised, _of course_ she knew.

“Where is he?”

“Currently unconscious on my living room floor,” she admitted. “Now, can we _please_ go?”

MacCready jumped out of bed and begun to get dressed, though not before wondering why she was staying in the room but he quickly got rid of that thought because it wasn’t like he was showing her anything new.

“Do you wanna wake up Hancock?” He asked on their way out.

“And risk getting pulled on top of him? No thanks.”

“Well, I don’t want that either.”

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll get Curie and put up with thousands of questions, and you can wake up Hancock, and risk getting groped by Goodneighbor’s finest?”

There was no right answer, but MacCready decided he’d rather wake up Hancock than deal with an endless barrage of questions, half of which the smartest person alive couldn’t answer.

“Deal.”

She had begun to wonder if Curie needed to talk in order to function, it was the only thing to explain why she felt the need to fill the air with words. A few of the settlers had also complained that she had a tendency to walk into their bedrooms unannounced.

“I know you’re curious about the world, and people, but that’s why I’m bringing you to Goodneighbor, so you can experience it for yourself. Asking about it will just take away all the surprises that come later.”

It was the nicest thing she could say that didn’t involve the words ‘shut’ and ‘up’.

Hancock wasn’t too happy about being woken up before midday, especially when he was meant to be on vacation, but he didn’t question why - mostly because MacCready told him he’d have a better chance at taming a deathclaw.

Sanctuary was nice, amazing in fact, but there was something about returning home that put a skip in his step. It wasn’t that he missed his office, or the ridiculous amount of paperwork, he missed the people; _his_ people.

She was putting her safety in the hands of her feet and the people around her, her eyes were too busy looking at her own hand, it really hurt and she wondered just how hard she had hit him. In the back of her mind felt guilty about just leaving him unconscious on the floor, she didn’t regret punching him as such (that had been a long time coming) but she was running away from him _again_.

Nick got to Goodneighbor before them and was flirting with Irma whilst he waited for them. She couldn’t blame him, just like Magnolia there was something about her that reeled people in, she had the same thing going for her.

Hancock, knowing how important it was to her, opted to stay rather than check in with Fahrenheit - he knew the town could handle being under her guidance for a few more hours. The ragtag group descended the stairs and the five of them stood in Amari’s office.

“Surely you’re not all here to see if I’ve got an update on an empty synth?”

“No, Dr. Amari this is Curie,” she gestured to the Miss Nanny, “she’s the one requesting to be turned into a synth. Nick and I are here because we need your help, these two,” she pointed to Hancock and MacCready, “are here for moral support.”

“Why do you need my help?”

“I need the memories from a man named Kellogg, but he’s dead.”

“I know we’re asking for a miracle, Amari, but you’ve pulled off the impossible before.” 

“Are you two mad?” She asked, her eyes flicking between the two of them. “Putting aside the fact that you’re asking me to defile a corpse, you do realise that the memory simulators require intact, _living_ brains to function?”

“Please.” She asked for a lot from everybody lately. “Nick says you’re the only one who can make this work.”

“This dead brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari. The biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. You _need_ this, and so do we.”

Amari sighed, knowing Valentine had a point.

“Fine, I’ll take a look, but no guarantees. Do you…have it with you?”

All eyes were on her and she nodded in response. She walked over to MacCready and tucked her hand into the hidden compartment of his coat, she rooted around before pulling out the small piece of tech.

“Seriously? You put that in my coat?” Complained MacCready with a grimace, the idea of that thing being anywhere near him was disturbing enough…let alone the fact he’d been carrying it, without even knowing.

“Here, this is what I found.”

Amari snatched it away in curiosity, her eyes scanning the small device as she twisted it in her hand.

“This is…wait. That’s the hippocampus! And this thing attached to it…a neural interface?”

“Those circuits look awfully familiar…” stated Nick, a haunting tone in his voice.

“I’m not surprised. From what I’ve seen, all Institute technology has a similar architecture. Mister Valentine is an older generation synth, but Institute technology being what it is…The brain implant _could_ fit him.”

She had told MacCready that Nick being a synth might come in handy, she just hadn’t imagined it would happen like this. It was an incredible risk to take, wiring something to his brain. It was too much to ask of him.

“Don’t worry about me, doll. I’m well past the warranty date, anyway.”

“I can’t expect you to do this for me, Nick.”

“I risk my life for people every day, and if I shutdown after successfully finding the Institute, then I’ll go with a big old smile on my face.”

“I…thank you, Nick.”

“Thank me when we meet again on the other side.”

Amari gestured for him to take a seat on the chair next to the memory lounger. She stood behind him and began to open up the back of his head, slowly attaching the small piece of technology to his circuits.

“I need you to keeping talking to me, Mister Valentine. Any slight change in your cognitive functions could be dire.”

She attached one particular piece and paused. “Are you…feeling any different?”

“There’s a lot of…flashes….static….I can’t make sense of any of it, doc.” Valentine’s voice was straining in his throat and she wanted nothing more than to rip him out of the chair, thank him, and accept that she had come to yet another dead end. If she let him, Nick would kill himself trying to get her answers, and she just couldn’t.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Amari took a step back, knowing that any further poking and prodding wasn’t going to help. “The mnemonic impressions are encoded. It appears the Institute has one last failsafe. There’s a lock on the memories in the implant.”

“Is there a way of getting past it?” Without risking Nick’s life even more.

“Let me think…The encryption is too strong for a single mind. _But_ …what if we used two?”

She should have seen that one coming.

“We load both you and Mister Valentine into the memory loungers. Run your cognitive functions in parallel. He’ll act as a host while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find.”

She scanned the room, noting the concerned look on MacCready and Hancock’s faces. They couldn’t expect her to let Nick risk his life and not ask the same of herself.

“All right. Let’s get started.”

Hancock held her hand, as if she were frail, and guided her into the memory lounger. Sitting down was an awkward task, the lounger bent at odd angles and the chair went further back than she had originally anticipated.

“I really don’t know how people can spend hours in these things, sitting in it is almost as fun as getting in it,” she joked at Hancock in an effort to comfort him, the worriment on his face was not helping.

Time slowed down and they stared into each other’s eyes, she lost herself in the black abyss of his stare and mentally prepared herself. She was never one for looking back, didn’t see the point in reminiscing about a life that didn’t exist anymore. She’d learnt to accept and control her emotions over the past seven months, there was no telling how she would react now to walking through the memories of a dead man.

He was lost, alone. He was just a scared little boy with a volatile father and a mother that pushed him to be strong. He grew up not only to be physically strong but mentally as well. He learnt to read people, see their intentions written in their walk. She saw the mercenary, the cold-hearted killer he had grown up to become.

She knew Kellogg had a family, he spoke about them before they tried to kill each other, she just didn’t know his child was just a baby when she was taken from him. It made it even harder to see how easy he found kidnapping Shaun. At the time he thought she was his mother - his own child and wife killed at the hand of his enemy - and he was so willing to separate them.

_The Institute must have paid him well._

For a mercenary like Kellogg it was about the money, earning enough so he could eat and sleep, just to wake up and fight another day. He had found himself in a downward spiral, he had started off killing in order to survive the harsh world around him, but the more he killed the more of a name he got for himself…the more people took notice, and soon greed conquered all.

Kellogg didn’t seem to have a conscience, he showed no remorse for anything he did, she wouldn’t go as far as to say he liked it but he had definitely suffered from occupational-numbness.

Then the next memory came, somewhere in the background Amari apologised and she gripped the arms of the chair tightly as the interior of Vault 111 filled her mind.

It was an odd sensation, looking at herself through the eyes of someone else, after all most people only mean it figuratively, but there she was, slowly waking up and looking out at the scene in front of her.

She felt herself smile as she watched and listened to Nathaniel fight for Shaun. She would give him that, he was good - in the end. He died trying to protect Shaun, though the irony was not lost on her.

She came face to face with herself, the fire she saw in her own eyes was unsettling. She’d come a long way in last seven months. She didn’t miss her hair as much as she thought she would, her eyes were a lot brighter now, and she certainly didn’t miss the hollow stare of her own eyes. She almost felt guilty that people had seen her look like that. In the part of her brain that wasn’t currently occupied by Kellogg, she made a mental note to apologise to MacCready; he’d seen the worst of it.

Her fists clenched when she was surrounded by the last memory, her fingernails digging so far into her palm that she could feel the blood running down her skin. He looked exactly like she imagined he would. Small, ten years old, dirty blonde hair that was combed perfectly. Her bottom lip quivered when she reminded herself that this memory had been over fifty years ago.

Then she heard it, it was soft and in the background but the music was too familiar not to. She listened in, wondering who Travis had replaced and was confused when she heard the nervous tones of her favourite Diamond City radio host. She was watching a memory that happened over fifty years ago, if Travis was a synth she doubted that no one in Diamond City would notice him not ageing over that time…there was only one real explanation.

Being the back-up wasn’t the only reason they kept her alive, after all they had clearly been successful with Shaun’s DNA, they could have gone back at any point over the past fifty years and killed her. _They planned it._ That was why they never dealt with Kellogg themselves, despite him being a liability.

Deacon hadn’t accidentally released her from the vault (though in the back of her head she knew that it was a stretch to think he had in the first place), someone in the Institute had, knowing full well that she would find Kellogg, kill him and walk through his memories. The Institute had planned every last detail, and she knew there was only one person in the place that might want to give her the chance to avenge her broken family.

_Shaun’s alive_.

 

* * * *

 

Deacon woke up with an agonised and confused groan. He rolled onto his side and groaned even louder at the sudden shooting pain in his head, that seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He looked around the strange room he was suddenly in, wondering where the hell he was and why it seemed so familiar. His eyes fell on the circle of light on the floor and followed it to the hole in the wall.

He sat, confused, as he watched himself pin Whisper against the wall and then punch a whole through it. He remembered doing that. Then he remembered everything that followed.

_Oh. Shit._

He and Whisper had sex. He was a little shocked, a little happy and plenty sore. It wasn’t just a quick, anger-fuelled fuck either, no it was a filthy, ‘let’s see how many ways I can fuck you’ sort of event. He couldn’t deny it, it was the greatest sex of his entire life. Even if it did end with him unconscious on the floor.

Did she run away because she regretted it? Or because she hated him? Whatever the reason he needed to get back to HQ, and more importantly he _really_ needed to get out of Sanctuary. 

He reached for his sunglasses, wincing as he put them on his face, and got to his feet. He could hear the sounds of life outside, there were loud so it must have been late in the day, and he scratched his head, wondering just how long he’d been knocked out. Being unconscious for any amount of time was bad enough, but it had to have been hours.

As he stood up he only just noticed what was next to him, an empty stimpack and a folded up piece of paper. He glanced at the stimpack, it wouldn’t help with the bruising, but it went a long way to why he felt _slightly_ numb in his face. He reached for the piece of paper and unfolded it, his stomach twitched in curiosity.

He stared down at it in disbelief. The number sequence didn’t make sense to him at first, not until he scanned down and saw what else she’d written.

It was a replica of the hangman game he hadn’t forgotten about, A and E were right where he remembered and he blinked at the new letter added. She’d been kind and gave him a difficult one, the letter Z stood out from its spot in the second word. He smiled, knowing that it was her apology for punching him, and giving him the code to the alley was her way of telling him he was forgiven.

He left the same way he came, sneaking out the back door and stepping through the tall hedges; deciding to take the longer, more _secluded_ route back.

 

* * * *

 

“How’s Nick?” She asked as she came back to reality, reminding herself of who she was.

“He’s fine,” smiled MacCready, _of course that’s her first question_. “Are _you_ okay?” He asked as he helped her out of the pod.

She wobbled her head, in every direction, and MacCready wasn’t quite sure what was her answer.

When she was standing on her own two feet she glanced back at the memory lounger, noting the static screen on the outside.

“ _You saw_?” She asked in shock.

“We all did.”

She looked around the practically empty room, Dr. Amari, MacCready and herself were the only three left.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Well, I imagine Curie is floating around upstairs, driving everyone insane. Nick woke up before you, said he needed a drink, though I’m not sure what he gets from it personally,” his sentence trailed off there and she looked at him inquisitively.

“RJ…where’s John?”

“Said he needed a cigarette,” his mouth scrunched up before he sighed. “He’s on the roof.”

It was a strange experience, walking up the stairs to the roof access. The ascent in any building put a knot in her stomach, she wasn’t scared of heights, there was just something quite ominous about going on to an empty roof. That feeling seemed to multiply tenfold on these particular steps, maybe it had something to do with it being Goodneighbor - there were enough unsavoury characters on the streets, she could only imagine what sort of degenerate hung out on its rooftops - or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Hancock was on the other side of the door and she wasn’t sure what mood he was in.

She slowly closed the door behind her, silently cursing at the noise of the metal scrapping against metal. She looked over at the hunched figure a few metres away, Hancock must have been so lost inside his head that he didn’t even note her presence. 

As she got closer she could smell the cigarette in his hand. His hat was perched next to him as his head buried itself in his free hand. She heard him sniff a few times, and when she saw a single drop of water fall to the ground she realised he was crying.

She couldn’t just turn around and pretend she hadn’t seen, she had to comfort him…somehow.

She settled for silently placing a hand gently on his back, so she wouldn’t startled him but he would know she was there.

He gave one final sniff, wiped his eye and took a deep breath before sitting up straight and looking every bit the strong Mayor she knew him as. Her hand stroked across his back as she circled around him and popped herself down on his lap.

“You okay?” She asked softly, both her hands wrapped loosely around his neck.

“Always, Sunshine.” He flashed her a smile before looking down at her own lap, she could see the sad expression on his face but he tried to hide it when he looked at her again, shooting her a wink that might have fooled anyone else.

“Hey,” one of her hands went to brush his ruined cheek. “This is me you’re talking to, you don’t have to be like that. What’s going on, John?”

He let out a breath, filled with anguish and frustration. He could do it, he could be open and honest with her, after all she had with him and she was far more stubborn and prideful than he was.

“We talk about it a lot, what you’ve been through an’ all. You can try to put yourself in that position, imagine what it must have been like…but _fuck_.”

A tiny smile spread over her face, he wasn’t upset because of her, he was upset _for_ her - expressing the emotions she never allowed herself to have time for, dwelling on it didn’t change a damn thing.

“You’re stronger than you should be.” It was an ambiguous statement, could be taken either way, but she knew that Hancock meant it as a compliment.

“That’s because I have people like you,” she offered him a smile, which he reciprocated (sort of). 

She pressed her forehead against his, a quivering breath left him and she chuckled breathlessly in response.

“You once told me that Kellogg was a lot like you,” he breathed.

She pulled back, her hands still dangling around his neck, and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I did.”

“Did you really mean that?”

After everything they had just seen Hancock refused to entertain the idea but it was a statement he suddenly couldn’t get out of his head.

“I did,” she responded. She readjusted herself on his lap to sit across him, leaving one arm dangling over his shoulder. “Whether you’re working on your own or for an organisation, you’re still doing the same job…You’re a number, a means to an end, and if you get caught…you never existed. ”

“I don’t think you’re anything like him.” Hancock mumbled

“No…you’re right, I’m not. But I could have been. I have a support network, people to fall back on when it becomes too much…Kellogg never had that, he had to deal with everything on his own. It’s why people like us choose to forget about emotions, makes everything a little more black and white if you do that.”

“Sound like you’re spouting some Brotherhood bullshit, sister.”

“Maybe I am, every military organisation somewhere down the line teaches its soldiers to become numb to pain, you pick yourself up and you carry on because you can’t do anything else, because there _is_ nothing else. Kellogg had emotions and learnt to bury them, I’m the reverse - I had no emotions and now I’m learning to deal with them.”

“I repeat my earlier statement,” he rasped.

“As do I. I don’t regret a single thing that happened to me,” and she really didn’t. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for me, John, I’m lucky. For everything the world has taken away from me, it has given me so much more in return. Everything I’ve been through has led to this exact moment. You,” she gently pressed her finger against his chest, “and me sitting on a roof, in a town full of irradiated people trying to pretend the world isn’t as fucked up as it is.”

“So you don’t regret stumbling into town?”

She shook her head before he finished his sentence. “I would never have found _you_. You’re different, you’re the only one I know who was ghoulified by chems; you’re unique. The first of your kind…and I’m the last of mine. Can’t lose something like that from my life, John.”

She meant every word. As much as she loved MacCready, as much as she always would, she definitely loved Hancock more. There was flirting, an obscene amount, but beyond that it was nothing more than mutual respect and adoration for each other that made them so close. They were two unique freaks surrounded by other freaks

She didn’t feel as though she was really doing anything, she was just talking to him, but it seemed to work because his tears had all dried up and he was more like himself.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he began as they made their way towards the door. “You’re not going to tell anyone you saw me cryin’ are ya?”

“What are you talking about? You came up here for some fresh air, I only followed you to tell you smoking is not a functional way of getting ‘fresh air.’”

They shared a smile and walked down the stairs in silence, their fingers entwined as they both comforted the other. When they reached the last set of stairs she spotted Nick in the background and her pace quickened.

“You’re still walkin’ funny.” He stated as he watched her walk ahead.

She didn’t give him a response, she knew damn well she was walking funny, and she knew the reason as to why. She also knew that it would be a few days before she would feel right again.

“Nick, are you okay?”

She had to ask for multiple reasons. One, he just went through an intense procedure, and two, something about him seemed a little off.

“Hope you had fun walking through my head.” Her hand was instinctively on her gun at the sound of his voice and she questioned for a split second if she was dreaming.

“Not the best trip I’ve been on,” she replied cautiously, “but it was free, so can’t complain.”

“We all pay for the things we do, one way or the other. Should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

“What did you say, doll?” Like the flick of a switch Kellogg was gone and Nick had come back.

“Nick, are you okay? I mean, do you feel weird at all?”

“Nope, feel the same as I always do. Why’d you ask?”

“I, I think Kellogg just took over your mind for a minute.”

“Seriously? Well, Amari said something like that might happen…residue memory transfer or some nonsense.” Nick explained, a flow of reassurance in his voice.

“Oh, I know.” She shrugged, she was more worried about him. “Just, just take it easy, okay? And promise me you’ll come back here if you feel even the slightest bit strange?”

“Guess it’s too late to tell you to not worry about me, eh?”

“Sorry, Nick, you’re on the list now. In permanent ink.” She smiled.

“So, did I just imagine it or did we actually figure it out?”

“We figured it out.”

Teleportation - like something out of a sci-fi film. There was a rogue scientist, by the name of Virgil, somewhere out in the Commonwealth. She just had to find him and, unfortunately, she knew where she needed to start - in the most dangerous part of the Commonwealth.

Looking at it from a distance was bad enough, the ominous green glow that darkened the horizon. It made sense for him to be hiding there, the only place that even the Institute would think twice about going into. They really had thrown Kellogg to the wolves, giving him that particular assignment, no wonder he chose to hide away in Fort Hagen.

It didn’t matter, if the world was telling her to go there then she had no choice. She would walk into hell and hope that she made it out the other side.

_We’ve got a lot of planning to do_. And didn’t she just know it. 

Eventually the five of them split up, Nick returned to Diamond City and Hancock went to relieve Fahrenheit of her duties. Curie chose to stay with Dr. Amari, and her and MacCready were left to entertain themselves.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked when they were making their way to Daisy’s shop.

“Don’t think I can answer that, RJ.”

“Are you worried about what you have to do next?”

He, himself, wasn’t entirely sure what her next move was, but given the look of her, she did.

She nodded. “Amongst a lot of other things.”

Like Deacon laying unconscious on her living room floor, having to go back to HQ…and face him again. 

Her mind was so preoccupied that she barely registered the tight hug Daisy gave her, before smiling and giving her her mail.

“What the hell is this?” She lifted one particular envelope in the air. She didn’t recognise the handwriting, it was a lot neater than the usual scribbles she got from people.

“It looks like a letter to me.”

“I know that. I mean what the hell is _this_?”

She turned it around to show him the melted seal on the flap.

“If I’m not mistaken, that is the Brotherhood of Steel insignia.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” She asked the air and she tore open the letter.

“‘To the General of the Minutemen, I am Elder Maxson, leader of the Brotherhood of Steel. I have heard of the good work that the Minutemen have done since being under your leadership. Perhaps we should meet to discuss the future of the Commonwealth… _Man to man’_.”

“Seriously? He thinks you’re a man.”

“Hardly anyone knows what I look like and outside of the Minutemen, and our settlements, no one knows the General is a woman. Piper doesn’t even mention it in her articles.”

Mainly because she made Piper promise not to.

“Didn’t you save that team back a few months ago?”

“Yeah, but I used a grenade of a group of ferals that were rushing towards me.”

She knew she was breaking her promise but there was no way she was going to take them all on at the same time.

“Are you going to write back?”

“Well…it’d be rude not to, wouldn’t it?”

“You’ve got that look.” MacCready raised an eyebrow at her. 

“What look?” she scoffed. “You don’t know my looks.”

“Yes I do and you know it, I don’t think anyone’s seen your face like I have.”

“A few people have seen my face though.”

“Well that’s not surprising, I kept telling you you should use your face more. So, what are you going to do?”

“The Elder of the Brotherhood is requesting an audience with the General of the Minutemen. That’s who he’s going to get.”

“Still thinking of a plan, eh? You’ll figure something out, you always do.”

She hated that she was impressed, the Brotherhood hadn’t even been in the Commonwealth a week and yet their leader was already sizing up his competition.

“You look worried,” he commented as she stared out into nothing.

“I’d rather not live through another war,” she sighed. 

She didn’t need to meet the man to know what his intentions were. ‘Discussing the future of the Commonwealth’ was his way of telling her he wanted to know what the Minutemen had to offer the world, and if they could match up to the Brotherhood.

“RJ, I need you to tell me everything you know about the Brotherhood and this, Elder Maxson.” She said his name with disdain. It wasn’t his fault he thought she was a man, but it didn’t stop her from feeling insulted.

By the time she left Goodneighbor and headed back to HQ her head was swimming. As it turned out, MacCready knew a lot about the Brotherhood, and it had not stilled her worrying one bit.

She’d already decided to go to Castle (finally) and talk to Preston, and when she walked into Railroad HQ she was determined to talk to Desdemona as well.

Then she saw Glory.

“Glory?”

She moved her head to look up at her and she saw the unmistakable lines of dried up tears on her face.

“What’s wrong?” She sat down next to her.

“I lost a friend today,” she sniffed.

“I’m sorry.”

“It happens, G5 - she was a good friend. She decided to get the memory wipe, and it didn’t fucking take so she’s just… _gone_. Then I get word from Amari that some asshole is looking for an empty synth body.”

Her lips curled in guilt and she sighed.

“That ‘asshole’? It’s me.” Glory looked at her in shock. “I mean, I just _asked_ Amari to look into it, I didn’t really expect anything to come from it.”

“Why do you need a synth body?” She asked with a little more anger than deemed necessary. It was hardly Whisper’s fault.

“I’ve got this _friend_. She wants to know what it’s like to be human, or as close as she can get.”

“You’re doing this for _Curie_?”

She ignored the sudden question of how Glory knew her name, this wasn’t about her.

“If it’s too hard for you, or you think it’ll make things weird between us, then forget about it. Curie will wait as long as she needs to.”

“It’s just, it’s hard, you know, thinking of her being alive but it not being her.”

“I know I didn’t know her, but I like to think she’d be okay with it. You know, giving life to something.”

“I…I never really thought about it like that. I’m not saying I won’t find it a little weird, but you’re right. Will you come with me, though?”

“Another nuclear bomb couldn’t stop me.” She gave her a delicate smile and before long Glory was back to her old self.

Now that Whisper had successfully got her out of her funk, Glory was suddenly aware of the fact that Whisper had come back on her own and for a split second she wondered if Whisper had killed Deacon. Glory took a real look at her and realised she looked just as deflated as he did when he left.

“Why are you wearing that scarf?”

“Have you been outside recently? It’s _freezing._ ”

She knew it was bullshit, Glory had to know too, but she doubted that even Glory could work out the real reason.

“You know, I think that’s the longest you’ve ever spent on ‘Minutemen’ business.”

“Can I tell you something?” Glory nodded in response. She moved closer to Glory to whisper in her ear. “I found the Institute.”

“HOLY FUCK!”

“Shhh!” She seethed as she slammed her hand over Glory’s mouth. “I haven’t _found_ found the Institute, but I know how they’ve been getting onto the Commonwealth.”

Behind her hand Glory made a noise to indicate she had fixed the level of her voice.

“You need to tell Dez, this is _huge_.”

“Not yet,” she caught the confused look on Glory’s face. “It’s just a lead right now, it might not go anywhere and I’d rather not bother her until I know for certain.”

She didn’t want to get anyone’s hope up; including her own.

“Makes sense.”

Glory didn’t even bother to ask her about Deacon, as stubborn as that man was, Whisper was far worse. Glory doubted Whisper had actually killed him, maybe got him to the brink but she wouldn’t go all the way, at least that was what Glory was hoping. The scarf certainly raised a few questions, the entire way she carried herself did too. Something definitely happened, though Glory wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I wasn't going to put the Brotherhood in this at all, I don't really like them (in game because my bookmarks prove another story lol)) but loads of ideas have popped into my head and I'm sticking to one that includes Maxson (even though the gamer in me is like whhhy?)
> 
> Deacon's part is really small and I didn't necessarily have to include it, but I wanted to write about his reaction to everything when he woke up and I didn't fancy waiting until the next chapter. Plus, it's cute, right?
> 
> The random bit with Hancock came out of nowhere but I like to think that he'd be really affected by it, because he loves her so much, and I really like their relationship, even though I'm not 100% on how I would describe it.


	38. Wrong Side of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper and Deacon meet for the first time since Sanctuary and are quickly pulled into a mission together. They deal with their feelings. And by deal with them, they ignore them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Wrong Side of Heaven - Five Finger Death Punch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_l4Ab5FRwM))
> 
> This chapter was originally added because I had to take words out of something else I wanted to write first (because it was crazy long), but it took on a life of its own.
> 
> Once again I struggled with a song for this one, not much happens just a little angsty fluff. Whisper and Deacon seem to be coping well though.

_There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so._

 

An orange hue glowed across the horizon, Weston Water Treatment Plant appeared on his left as he turned the corner. It was getting late, and he wondered if Dez was panicking yet. Probably not, no doubt Whisper was there to defuse the situation.

He should be running back there, to put in his side of the story before she poisoned them all against him. But deep down, he knew she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t tell a single soul what happened. Neither would he.

His hope had been to take the ridiculously long, extremely dangerous road home. But he inadvertently stumbled onto a Minutemen trade route because there were dozens of them. He began to wonder just how many people Whisper had under her command.

His mind had been stuck on her the entire way there. Mostly, because of where he was heading. He still had the piece of paper in his pocket, his hand hovering over it so it didn’t accidentally slip out along the way.

He kept his eye on the entrance to Hangman’s Alley as he crossed the bridge. His heart pounded in his chest faster with every step he took. He had just enough self-awareness to remember the pressure plate buried in the ground. He jumped over it, smiling smugly as his eyes fell on the rotating blade that remained silent.

It felt weird, intrusive almost, to put the number sequence into the terminal. Probably because, deep down he didn’t think he deserved it. Did he really deserve her forgiveness? His hands had never been so hesitant on a keyboard before.

The door swung open and he could feel the blood pumping in his ears. Partly because he wouldn’t put it past her to put in a new trap, just for shits and giggles. But there were no new traps, no new turrets trying to shoot his face off. There was nothing but silence.

His body moved entirely on instinct. His feet progressed forward, stopping so his knees could bend down and his hand could grab the piece of chalk that was on the floor.

His whole body was shaking, whether it was from adrenaline or hesitation he wasn’t sure, but eventually his hand reached the wall. He stopped breathing as he wrote the letter on the wall, exhaling when he reached the end. It wasn’t that helpful to have one letter added, though Deacon was still grateful for it.

The placement of the letter ‘z’ was screaming at him, it was so close to the ‘e’…and suddenly, he knew what his next guess was.

 

* * * *

 

Her original intention, when stepping into HQ at that moment, had been to approach Desdemona about the arrival of the Brotherhood. But now, she was stuck in the hallway, comforting a synth and dealing with a brand new moral dilemma.

Glory was mourning a friend, and there she was, asking to use that friend’s body to stick in someone she knew. Glory said she was okay with it, or at least would be when given enough time, but listening to Glory reminisce about their adventures together, she wondered if that were true.

If Glory wasn’t completely comfortable with it, then she couldn’t do it. Curie would be upset, but she’d understand - as well as she could anyway. Curie would wait for as long as she needed to.

She really needed someone to talk to, and for the first time since Sanctuary, she was wishing Deacon was with her.

“I’ll tell Griswold G5 can be moved to Goodneighbor.” Glory decided with a heavy heart.

“Are you sure?” She asked one final time.

“Yes.”

“Okay, Glory. You contact Griswold and then you tell me when you’re ready. I’m in this with you,” she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Whisper.” She sniffed and recomposed herself. “You should probably check in with Dez, before she thinks you’ve deserted us.” She hesitated to get up, Glory smiled at her. “I’ll be okay.”

Glory never used the word ‘fine’ - she suspected that Deacon had taught her what the word really meant.

She walked into the war room with a heavy heart and a mind stuck on so many things. The entire reason she left the vault was because of Shaun, and whilst she was still determined to find him she knew it was for a different reason now. He wasn't the baby boy she was supposed to save, he was an old man who was probably stuck in his ways.

But whilst still coming up with a plan on how she was going to get into the Glowing Sea and get out alive, she knew that the Brotherhood’s arrival would affect a lot of the residents in her settlements. The rest of the Commonwealth had to take precedence over one old man.

And on top of that, now there was Glory. She was driving herself crazy, she knew that, no one else seemed to overthink everything. But that was only because she knew the consequences when she didn’t.

Enough people had been hurt already. She was sick of the bloodshed.

“Ahh, Whisper.” Desdemona’s monotonous tone pulled her out of her head, and for once she was grateful. 

“I’m glad to see your back. I could really use your help with something,” Desdemona gestured for her to come over and she joined in staring at the map on the makeshift table.

There were a number of markers that caught her attention, particularly the circles over some of her more remote settlements. This what just what her people needed, a threat from the Railroad too.

_Why the hell am I even with you people?_

“We’ve found the perfect place to set up a new safehouse, right here.” Desdemona placed her finger on the twice-circled building a little north-west of HQ.

Internally she groaned in annoyance. _Do your research._

Taffington Boathouse - an extremely well known building within the Minutemen, and if Desdemona pulled her finger out she would know about it too. It wasn’t a settlement per se, people didn’t live there. Because she hadn’t laid out a safe road that went past Graygarden (in order to protect its residents) she had to find a secure building where people could stop to rest.

_I cleared that place five months ago_ and there was no way she planned to let the Railroad set up a safehouse there. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help them, sure they were welcome but she wasn’t about to let the Railroad take it over.

_It belongs to the Minutemen, bitch._ She nodded curtly, thanking her lucky stars that she had the mind to wrap her bandana around herself before speaking to the woman. For this exact reason, some feelings (now she knew what they were) were too prominent to hide.

Okay, so scratch the original plan. Desdemona would be the last to find out about the Institute, Preston - the Minutemen - deserved to know first. After all, they were putting more effort into the safety of the Commonwealth than everyone else combined.

Glory hid her sigh of relief when Deacon walked through the door, though she quickly had to stifle a laugh when she noticed the purple bruise underneath his sunglasses.

No one had hit him hard enough to bruise for quite a few years.

“What the fuck happened to you?” She knew the answer already - Whisper - but there was no way he was going to admit to that so she was curious as to what excuse he’d come up with.

Deacon was in no mood, he was tired, probably suffering from some kind of brain trauma due to being unconscious for _six hours_ and, to top it off, he ached _everywhere_. 

It had been a while since he’d had sex, and he was adamant he’d never fucked anyone like _that_ , he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Though, internally, he was proud his stamina lasted as long as it did.

The bruise on his eye was full on dark now and even under his sunglasses it was noticeable, sure he could have got the surgery to cover it but it was a nice little message to Whisper, and he knew she would know what it was.

“Got chatted up by some gal and her fella wasn’t too happy about it.” He laughed with a smug face.

It was _kind of_ true, MacCready had beaten the hell out of him in Whisper’s honour, but at least he saw those coming, Whisper just sucker punched him.

“Always the lady charmer,” Glory smiled, still stifling the laugh that threatened to escape her. Women in the Commonwealth were tough, she was an example of that, but still, the idea was hilarious.

_You got beat up by a girl_ , her shoulders trembled at the thought and Deacon was quick to walk away. She watched him and noticed how weird and awkward his legs were.

Deacon was walking funny, so was Whisper - throw in the scarf wrapped around her neck and Glory connected the dots. 

_Looks like Drummer Boy owes me fifty caps._

Deacon walked further into HQ and spotted Dez and Whisper leaning over the desk, deep in conversation.

“Deacon, there y-“ Dez looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

Was everyone going to ask him that?

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” piped up Whisper. “It looks _really_ sore. I guess this is what I get for letting you travel on your own.”

_Is she fucking kidding?_ And there he was, concerned about her.

“Someone sucker punched me when I wasn’t looking,” _yeah, you did_ , “it’ll heal though. So what’s new?”

“Whisper was just telling me her plan to help secure another safehouse.”

“As I was saying,” Whisper dragged their attention back to the map in front of them. “It’s by a lake so it’s probably a boathouse of some kind, I’d need to check it over, get rid of any hostiles.” She did so a long time ago. “I mean it’s not a fortified Castle,” _like the Minutemen have_ , “but it might be good enough to set up shop there.”

_I sense tension_. He always did, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Dez looked exactly the same, but Whisper? Whisper looked _pissed_ and Deacon was sure it wasn’t all aimed at him.

He had no idea what she had to be pissed off about, he was the one with a black eye.

“Sounds like a plan, do you think you and Deacon are up to it?”

“As long as he can still see out of both eyes, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She laughed.

_She laughed!_ How on earth could she be this casual around him, especially after…

_You know what? Fine._ If she was cool with it; so was he. And she seemed perfectly normal. Though who could tell with all the shit covering her face. She wasn’t wearing it when they fucked, though he wasn’t really paying much attention to her face at the time.

He stopped himself. _He refused to think about it._

He still had a black eye. _Of course he fucking does._ The one time she was hoping he’d get surgery…She knew exactly what he was telling her.

_Fuck you too._

She hadn’t hit him hard enough. 

She couldn’t forget. She couldn’t deny how turned on she was when he had her pinned against the wall and she felt her arousal pool in her underwear when he punched through it. The way he pulled her hair so hard she thought it would rip from the roots. How he broke the skin on her neck when he bit her…it was the most incredible sexual experience of her life. She knew exactly what he wanted from her just before her second orgasm, it was the one thing she wanted too but she refused to give it to him. Not until he admitted it. It became a competition which just made the whole thing so much hotter.

At first she hadn’t had the chance to really admire him, but she felt him when he pressed up against her and she sure as hell felt him when he thrusted inside her. But as soon as she had him with his back against the wall. _Holy crap._ Deacon certainly knew how to appear average, so average he was forgettable, but when she pulled his underwear and saw his dick for the first time… _Score one for the Railroad._ She actually felt her mouth water. It was long and thick, a perfectly mushroomed head and veins in all the right places, and she was pretty sure it was the biggest she’d ever seen. It took a lot of effort on her part to take him completely in her throat. Her jaw was still killing her but she refused to acknowledge it. Just like she opted wearing a scarf inside HQ. The marks were noticeable no matter what wig she wore. They were agents after all, and if they were a little smarter they would have connected her covering her neck and Deacon’s black eye together. She suspected that at least Glory had put two and two together, but everyone knew how easily the two of them could lie and maybe they found it pointless even bothering to question it. 

The moment he stepped up to them she could see the discomfort in his entire body, was it because of her? Did he regret it? Just when she thought she had him nailed down, he went and surprised her. He seemed a little uneasy yet perfectly happy when Desdemona paired them together, okay not exactly, everyone knew by now that they travelled _everywhere_ together, even if that wasn’t strictly true. Whatever the reason, if he was going to pretend to be fine then so was she and she was doing a better job at it than him.

“Where are we going?” He had casually questioned for the hundredth time.

They quickly came across a road Whisper was clearly familiar with. Instantly Deacon knew why. He noticed the barbed wire fencing, the metal sheets that covered the gaps in the railings. He heard the unmistakeable sound of turrets, though he couldn’t see them, and, just like every other Minutemen path Deacon found himself on, the road was immaculate.

It still amazed him what Whisper could accomplish. Whilst she may not have been the one sweeping the road, or building its defences, Deacon knew the Minutemen wouldn’t be _shit_ if it weren’t for her. He still held on to his core belief - she really was the best thing to ever happen to the Commonwealth.

“For crying out loud.” She said under her breath. “To a place called Taffington.”

It wasn’t awkward when they were walking out of HQ together or when they were travelling towards the safe road; when they were completely silent. Then Deacon opened his mouth, the same question; every fucking time. 

“Then _why_ are we going this way when there’s a quicker route in the other direction?”

When they were a safe distance from Boston District he started to notice the increasing number of patrolling Minutemen.

“Desdemona had the same idea I did, saw the potential in a remote spot in the Commonwealth.” She explained. “We are going this way because I am in _no rush_ to ‘clear’ a settlement that doesn’t need clearing.”

“Then why would Dez say it does?”

“Because Desdemona doesn’t do her research?” _None of you do_. Except Deacon, he did a lot of research. “I’ve already got an alternative place, but I wouldn’t mind just checking in. I mean no one strictly _lives_ there, but people pass through a lot - I doubt anyone’s looking after it.”

She’d never told him that before.

They went back to comfortable, not-awkward-at-all, silence after that. Once again, around Whisper, he was lost for words. He’d made sure he’d stayed a safe yet comfortable distance away from her at all times. Everything was different now, he’d felt her bare skin against his and every time he got even remotely close to her, he remembered it. He spent the entire time staring at his feet, only returning to reality at the sound of gunfire. 

Whisper seemed fine, not sensing the awkwardness at all. Maybe it was all in his head. But how could it be? How on earth could she be fine? _They had sex_ , did she not realise that?

_You’re thinking about it again._

Two patrolling Minutemen snapped him out of it as they walked along the road.

“General,” spoke one of them as he saluted her.

Deacon heard her tut as her head shook slightly before quickly acknowledging the two of them by name. _Henri_ and _Sian…_ he was quite impressed she remembered. Of course she did, she remembered _everything._

For a place that no one lived in, it was pretty well fortified. He saw the laser tripwires across the front door. Two machine gun turrets, one…two… _three_ missile launchers and he was sure they past a few mines on their way up. He was _definitely_ impressed now.

“Thanks.”

He could literally hide nothing from her. 

She inspected the turrets outside, they seemed okay; hardly used. _Good._ The Commonwealth was being quiet, a little too quiet. She laughed to herself. _RJ would have found that funny._

She missed him already, she’d much rather be back in Sanctuary helping him with Operation Scorpion (its what she’d been calling it in her head). Her time in Goodneighbor with Nick had been useful, they’d finally figured out how people got in and out of the Institute. She had yet to tell anyone the fine detail about having to go into the Glowing Sea but no one needed to know about that until she was ready to go. She was going to have to plan; a lot.

If they were only going to be one or two people living here, it was just fine but it was nowhere near being classified as the safehouse Dez _desperately_ needed.

“So, you’re just giving this place to the Railroad?”

She shook her head. “Not on your life, this is just a stop over.”

“To where?”

“An outpost rather north of here, like I said, I just wanted to check in with it. Hopefully, if Desdemona does decide to get someone else to look at it, they’ll see the turrets and a few Minutemen and caravans outside and realise that it’s already taken.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Dez that in the first place?”

“The day I go to Desdemona as General is the day I slap her in the face.” _Patronising cow._ “This way, she stays out of _my_ way and still gets what she wants - a safehouse.”

“An outpost.” He corrected.

“Zimonja - don’t ask me what it means, I didn’t come up with it.” She gestured to the Pip-Boy on her arm, “If this thing had a pedometer, I think it would say I’ve walked the equivalent of the entire Commonwealth. I have Sam, a very good organiser, working for the Minutemen, every safe route comes across at least two or three stop over buildings, which thanks to my _fantastic_ organiser, are always stocked with the essentials.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Not that he wasn’t grateful for something true leaving her mouth.

“Mostly to brag, you know, in case you just ‘happen’ to be talking to Desdemona about me,” she admitted with a half shrug. “But I’m going somewhere with it, so bear with me.”

They walked further into the boathouse, she nodded curtly at the people they past.

“Not every place I secure is ‘settlement ready’,” that was probably how Preston would answer, “so although caravans and a few other people know about them, the Minutemen don’t and there aren’t beacons set up.”

Hangman’s Alley was a prime example of that.

“The outpost is in the middle of nowhere, too small for more than three people, and there’s enough empty land around it to see anything coming. There’s turrets already installed, I just need to make sure no one else has moved in since I was last there.”

It wouldn’t surprise her if a group of Raiders moved in to replace the ones she and MacCready killed.

She checked every sensor installed, and there were a lot of them, Deacon counted ten just on the stairs. She had to deactivated one of the sensors on the back window, so she could open it and lean out (a gut wrenching amount) to check the spotlight.

Next came checking the cupboards, medical supplies and the state of the mattresses. She laid on one particular bed and when she bounced her body up and down a little to check its firmness, Deacon felt like he’d just died.

Thankfully she stopped bouncing and opted to just wriggle around on it, which was not helping Deacon’s situation at all. 

“I don’t know how I feel about this, you know?” She stated as she bounced her head on the pillow a few times.

“W-,” he cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if I should replace it or not. Here, see if you can tell,” she turned her head away from him as she shuffled over.

_I can’t believe I just said that._ But she couldn’t take it back, besides she just needed his opinion. As far as they were both concerned, nothing had changed.

Deacon swore on his life that he actually heard himself get an erection.

_We can’t do that…not after…_ and yet his feet were still moving forward. _This is fucking insane_ he told himself as he sat down on the edge of the bed. _How can she be okay with this?_ He laid down next to her, desperate to create some distance, except there wasn’t any because the bed was designed for one person. He was as close as he could get to her without being on top of her…and that was the last mental image he needed in that moment.

“So what do you think?” He turned to look at her, knowing their faces were a safe distance apart. He hadn’t seen her take the bandana off, he was just glad she still had sunglasses on, him too for that matter.

“It’s okay, probably the best mattress I’ve slept on for a while.”

_Aint that the truth._ Sighed the voices in his head.

“Doesn’t feel too used, which is _always_ a good thing.”

“Maybe I’ll check again in a few months…” her sentence drifted away. They laid on the bed in silence, both of them trying to look at everything but each other.

Deacon wanted nothing more than to look at her, face her and finally say all the things he should have said rather than what they did instead. But that meant being real with each other, and by that point they’d both learnt that everything between them was fine as long as they didn’t talk about anything honest.

They reached Outpost Zimonja a few hours later, they filled the silence with whatever noise they could - talking about everything and nothing - and she was grateful because every time she had a chance to think a small voice was telling her to tell him about Kellogg.

To her relief the outpost had remained untouched, though the turrets had seen better days and one or two traps needed cleaning out. But if the latter actually bothered anyone perhaps they weren’t suited for life in a post apocalyptic world.

The damage to the turrets wasn’t too bad, nothing she felt the need to inform Sam about so she moved to the supply chest, found it still well stocked, and took what she needed.

Deacon was distracted when she threw a cloth at him, he held it in his hand and shrugged at her.

“We’re officially on Railroad business, time to get dirty.”

_Holy fuck, that sounded like innuendo._ Though she hadn’t meant it like that. Was that how it was going to be from now on? Was she going to have to rethink everything she said before saying to him just in case it remotely sounded sexual?

She groaned at the ridiculousness of the situation and busied herself with tweaking the first turret. She tried desperately to concentrate on the task at hand, her head was just as desperate to keep her on another subject.

_At least tell him something, if you want to keep it professional between the two of you. I mean, you’ve told Glory more than you have him._

_He deserves more_.

Nora always fell for the wrong people. Deacon deserved nothing.

_That’s not true_. And even she had to agree. Despite everything, they’d still been through a lot together.

She closed her eyes in frustration. She wanted to tell him but she didn’t want to, all at the same time. For dozens of different reasons and she couldn’t land on a single one long enough to focus on it.

The best thing about all the other people she’d had sex with was that she never saw them again afterwards. She was usually gone before they woke up. It was hard not to look over at him, despite the fact that every time she did she saw him naked. At first she kept glancing over to see if her mind had grown up and if she saw him in the clothes he was actually wearing. And then she just became addicted to it. If she was never going to see it again then she wanted to look at it whilst she could.

She actually bit her lip and squirmed a little when she watched him bend over to start cleaning the turret furtherest away from her.

If anything could convince her that God was real it was Deacon’s ass. Her memory offered her a perfectly smooth, chiselled image of him but she remembered running her nails all over him and wondered just how many cuts his t-shirt was covering. She wondered if she’d subconsciously only scratched the parts of him that were covered with clothing.

The electrical surge in her finger tore her gaze away from Deacon and she looked for the cause. Now she really was going to have to involve Sam. She’d successfully killed the turret, and wasn’t even sure what she’d done.

Deciding that stupid mistakes like that were probably going to continue, she reluctantly stood up and made her way over to Deacon.

She went to tap him on the shoulder, stopping halfway to second guess herself, and he was up before she even touched him.

“Your reflexes are terrifying.” _Maybe I should have read his recall code…just in case._

“What’s up?” The casual tone of his voice and thrust of his chin are enough to throw her for a second. And she wasn’t entirely sure why, but the way he said it hurt for some reason.

“I’ve successfully just broken the first turret, and I think it’s a sign of fatigue.” She couldn’t remember the last time she slept, usually it didn’t matter, but usually she didn’t go through all the crap she just went through. “So I was going to suggest we sit down.”

“Okay,” but he knew it wasn’t okay. He could tell. And whatever it was, as they made their way towards the makeshift shack, he knew it wasn’t good. It never was.

“Water?” She offered when he was sat (relatively) comfortably.

_Interrogation 101 - offer prisoner a drink._ But he wasn’t a prisoner, he knew that. He was a willing participant in anything Whisper connected.

He took the bottle, wondering what she was building up to. She sat on the chair next to him, rather than on the couch with him because it helped give her some illusion of distance.

She opened her mouth to talk. Talk about what exactly? She had no idea. There were a lot of things she could tell him. Kellogg, Virgil and the Glowing Sea…Her moral predicament concerning Glory…Her ever increasing worry for the safety of her people, now the Brotherhood were in town.

Not to mention that she owed him an apology, probably more than one if she were being honest. 

She had to say something, she knew he was expecting her to, and she landed on the safest topic.

“I find it odd that Desdemona hasn’t mentioned the arrival of the Brotherhood once,” she said off-the-cuff.

Deacon choked slightly on his water for two reasons. One, it hadn’t been the subject he was expecting - though he was grateful it wasn’t about them - and two, the bitchy tone in her voice when she mentioned the boss’ name. He’d been spot on with the tension he sensed earlier.

It seemed like a lot of anger aimed at someone who simply didn’t realise the Minutemen already occupied a wanted space. But Deacon could read between the lines, hell he had the same frustrations with Dez too.

The boss never mentioned the Brotherhood or the Minutemen, and the Institute were only mentioned in relation to a wandering synth. If it weren’t for people like him, he was worried his ragtag family would never know _anything_. Because it was true, Desdemona hadn’t said a word, and the Brotherhood had been in the Commonwealth for nearly a fortnight.

Her eyes fell on the lines of burning red that shone through the slates in the wall panel.

“The sun’s setting,” she pointed out and Deacon was confused by the sudden change in conversation. “We can leave now, or camp here for the night. What would you prefer?”

His body clock had adjusted well to Whisper’s sleep schedule - for the most part anyway because it was pretty sporadic. In fact, to call it a schedule was a bit of a stretch. Deacon knew they couldn’t sleep anywhere near each other, not yet. Then again, it had been a while since he’d been able to close his eyes.

“Hey, your settlement, your choice.” He offered.

“Technically speaking it belongs to the Railroad now,” she stood up. “But thanks. At the back, up the stairs - you can sleep there. I’ll take the room at the front.”

“Aww,” he placed his hand over his heart as he stood up. “You’d put yourself in the line of fire to protect me, that’s adorable.”

She smiled softly, despite herself. 

“More, I trust myself to protect us than I do you?” She retorted, her eyebrows slightly raised. It was hard to tell if she was being sincere. “And Desdemona would kill me if I let something happen to you.”

“Did Glory tell you to say that?” He asked, following her back outside.

“No, its obvious how much she cares about you. Seems to depend on you a lot, I assume you go back a long time.” Her assumptions were never that, she did _her_ research.

It wasn’t jealousy he sensed, no one would _ever_ think he and Dez were like that, even the mental image he was provided was weird. It really would be like fucking his mother.

_Gross_. He gagged slightly.

She went up the ladder before him and Deacon used every ounce of self control he had not to look at her ass. It was already hard enough not to but now he knew what it looked like bare and bouncing against him.

He bit his lip and was just grateful she had her back to him. He didn’t start climbing the ladder until she was stood at the top of it, figuring it was safer that way.

She was right, it was small - wouldn’t fit more than a few people, unless they expanded out, but given the advantage they had with the vast amount of land, Deacon thought it best not to. 

He spotted the bunkbed and chest of drawers. It was basic but just the pure fact that _some_ effort had been put in was nice.

“There’s a few comics in the box over there,” she pointed at it.

Deacon was surprised she sacrificed part of her collection. “Mostly duplicates of the ones I already have.”

He smiled at her comment, knowing she read it on his face, and for once he didn’t mind.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it.” She commented and jumped off the side.

Deacon was quick to look over, just in case. She was looking up at him, smiling.

“Aww,” she cooed, swaying slightly. “You _do_ care.”

He watched her walk away, her head twitching as she resisted the urge to look back.

She gave in when she reached the door. She waved a delicate hand at him and disappeared behind it.

Deacon let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and rested against the side of the makeshift shack.

There was a tension, one that didn’t even need to be there, but they seemed to be creating it for themselves. They thought the same way on so many things, and she wondered if Deacon’s brain was working the same way as hers.

Were they misreading each other? Did they simply think the other person was okay when neither of them really were? Or was it just her?

They couldn’t talk about any of this, she knew that. Nothing worked in their favour when they talked about something real.

She looked over at the bed and groaned, knowing her mind was too preoccupied to allow her to sleep.

Deacon tossed and turned, opening his eyes for the hundredth time because he just couldn’t sleep. Never could when he was in an unfamiliar setting, or in one where he at least didn’t need to be on full alert, which was a catch twenty-two of its own.

He stood up, dropping the pretence all together, and reached down for his pack of smokes. His head poked past the gap in the shack and he spotted a silhouette on the roof in the distance. Deacon knew she wasn’t keeping watch, most of the turrets still worked, so he figured she too was having trouble sleeping.

He lit his cigarette, sat down against the wall, and watched her. She looked lost in thought, her head was pointed towards the sky whilst her hand periodically ran through her hair. She was frustrated about something, it may have had something to do with him, but who could be sure by that point? She had plenty of things to be frustrated about. 

She lifted her knee and Deacon quickly saw the notepad resting on her thigh. If she was planning to be gone by morning at least she was leaving him a note this time. He doubted it though, he was pretty sure they were okay travelling together, it was just all the bits in between they were struggling with. And if she really couldn’t stand to be around him, she would have been gone by now.

He moved to descend the ladder, not before second guessing himself, when he heard a faint voice in the air. He walked quietly across the ground, stopping at a distance where he could hear her but she couldn’t tell he was there. Though, knowing her like he did, Deacon suspected she heard him the second he got out of bed. Hell, she could probably smell his cigarette in the air.

“…jumpsuit’s out of the question,” she commented to herself. She moved her head slightly. “Thanks for writing, my friend says you’re a bit of an ass… _No_.” Deacon heard the unmistakeable sound of pencil scratching against paper. She turned her head again. “Could always ask to borrow a set of power armour…” she breathed with a grimace.

Whisper seemed to be having two conversations simultaneously, by the sounds of it had two notepads and was making as many notes as possible. Though Deacon had no idea what she was talking about, in either conversation.

But she was talking about needing power armour, which wasn’t good - considering how much she hated it. 

She muttered something else and made a few more scribbles. She groaned and crossed them out.

“Come on Mac, you can do this.”

Deacon’s whole body froze. _Mac_ …His assumption on what letter to choose next had been right. He would have marvelled in this small victory a little while longer if it weren’t for the second frustrated groan she let out.

He heard the paper hit the roof and she buried her face in her hands.

“I can’t do this.” She told herself and immediately Deacon wanted to protest.

Yes she could, whatever it was. If he’d learnt one thing from all this following her around it was that she could do anything she set her mind to. Though, she would probably find it useful to ask for help once in a while.

“This could kill us, and we don’t even know he’s there. A synth, yes I know.”

Deacon’s face furrowed in confusion. Whisper had gone from having a conversation with herself, to the voices in her head. It was nice to know he wasn’t the other one who spoke back.

At the word synth his mind immediately wandered to Barbara and he shuffled uncomfortably in place.

“Haven’t heard too many stories of people coming out of there alive. True.” She laughed bitterly at whatever the voice in her head said. “We’d have to prepare for the worst. I’ll have to inform Preston…What about him?” She asked after a pause, a surprised yet bitter tone to her voice. Instantly Deacon knew she was talking about him, maybe she _didn’t_ know he was there. “This might kill him, he never does like it when I’m away too long.”

On second thought, maybe she was talking about MacCready.

She groaned again. “No, I don’t think I could be away from him that long either.”

Then again…

Deacon was just hoping at this point. Not wanting to wait for her to voice an answer that might depress him he walked back towards the ladder. He could still hear her muttering to herself, the paper lay on the roof forgotten, when he got back into the bed.

Whatever was eating her, she’d tell him in the morning.

 

* * * *

 

She sat on the roof and watched the sun rise, the final draft of her letter sitting in her lap. She would regret pulling an all-nighter, considering she’d had less than twenty hours sleep in the past week, but it was rare that she found time to herself these days, and talking out loud helped from time to time. It was one of the few times she was honest out loud, because in this situation lying wasn’t going to help.

At present she found it easier to deal with the Brotherhood situation, in that case it was just a matter of standing her ground before the Elder had a chance to shake it. Finding Virgil was still in the process of being planned, the only people who knew about the Glowing Sea and had been inside it were the Children of Atom and they were hardly known for their friendly chitchat.

She couldn’t go alone, mainly because she didn’t want to, but there was the matter of who she took with her. Of course Deacon would be her first choice, his face popped into her head the second she realised that was where she was heading next, but it would be putting him in danger. Danger he may not necessarily come back from and the idea of him dying because of her twisted her stomach. The only person she knew who wasn’t in any immediate danger from stepping into it was Hancock, but she couldn’t ask the Mayor of Goodneighbor to come with her. To be fair, she _could_ and he’d no doubt say yes but he had responsibilities, ones he already had trouble handling. She smiled as her mind floated to his cheeky grin.

She stood in the middle of the outpost, waiting for Deacon to wake up, the envelope in her hand.

The plan, as she had it in her head, was for the two of them to stop over in Goodneighbor so she could drop the letter off with Daisy. Maybe grab a drink at the Rail, because hell she could use one, and then tell Deacon it was time for them to split up.

She was well overdue for a visit to Castle, her and Preston had a lot to discuss. If she were to tell anyone about the Glowing Sea this early on it would be him, he would need to plan in case something happened.

And, well, didn’t _that_ thought just dampen her day.

By the time Deacon was down the ladder and in front of her she was desperate for a shot of Jet.

“Hey, you okay?” She smiled softly at the concern in his voice.

Deacon wondered if she’d slept at all, she didn’t look like she had, even underneath her bandana and sunglasses Deacon could tell. Her demons clearly kept her awake all night, and Deacon could sympathise.

His eyes fell on the envelope in her hand, whatever she was writing last night, she was finished now. 

“I really wish you’d just set up a post office,” he commented when he realised where they were going next. Not that he minded too much, he liked the town, and they were kind of heading in that direction back to HQ anyway.

“I did, it’s called ‘Daisy’s Shop’,” she retorted, ignoring that he even knew what a post office was. “And it’s been a while since Irma last saw you.”

The woman commented on his absence once everything had died down a little and the air wasn’t so thick. She didn’t tell Irma what happened, but like most people, she could probably tell. By that point she was all but limping.

Just the implication that the two women had spoken about him had him hiding a groan, his brain offering him a lot of dirty mental images lately.

He really was trying not to think about her like that, but it was getting harder the further they travelled, the only sense of normalcy came when an enemy detected them and they were forced to fight; it didn’t happen often but it was a welcoming distraction when it did. He was relieved when he saw the neon lights of Goodneighbor, he resisted the urge to run to the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, and we all think her relationship with Deacon is complicated. Despite being 'pro' railroad I have a pretty negative opinion of Desdemona, don't know why, just do so of course, Whisper does too. My idea is that because she was brought up the way she was she still respects the chain of command, she still has to show some level of respect and it's why she insists of saying Desdemona rather than Dez (in case no one picked up on that lol).
> 
> It was my intention to focus this chapter mainly around that, but Deacon, crafty as he is, wormed his way in there. The next chapter is pretty much ready to go, but I feel like updating two extremely long chapters in one go might overwhelm some people. 
> 
> I still can't believe I put that bit in about her name. Though, after 37 chapters of nothing I feel a hint was needed lol.
> 
> As always, thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> I love you all xx


	39. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To a night of misunderstandings, heightened emotions and a drunk Deacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the longest chapter to date. I apologise, I just couldn’t find a good place to divide it. Given the length of it its rather dialogue heavy. Just to warn y'all
> 
> (Chapter Title: Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana)

_But men are men; the best sometimes forget._

 

They stepped through and stopped, confused, as they saw Hancock stood against the short wall, his arms crossed over his chest and an intent look on his face.

_Please do not hit him._ She figured enough people had already. She widened her eyes at him. Hancock shook his head and closed his eyes.

“We gotta problem,” he said when he opened his eyes. “Well, more specifically, _you_ got a problem.”

“What?” She asked in slight annoyance, she had enough problems as it was.

“Three interesting, unsavoury gentlemen came into town not long after you left. The guy in charge told Far that he’d been told about this place by a woman in Bunker Hill.” He looks at both of them for their reaction. Deacon looked confused. Sunshine was almost there. “Apparently he’s spent the last few months tryin to find ya, told a few people you were meant to meet him but never showed.”

She looked over at Deacon the second she realised. His mouth was open.

_I can’t believe we forgot about that._ They thought in unison. In their defence, they’d been through a lot since then.

“Oh crap,” breathed Deacon.

“I don’t have a plan,” she said, her mind going blank. “Do you have a plan?”

“Well…no.” He thought for a moment, he was good in a crisis. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta remember our backstory.”

“Our backstory…”

“You know, you sucked dick to get ahead and I’ve suddenly become your bodyguard.” She sensed bitterness but ignored it.

“I worked my way to the top by filing paperwork and pointing out mistakes that saved our boss thousands of caps.” She retorted and Deacon slowly watched her morph into character.

He loved watching it.

“Sure, sure you did.”

“When we get back I am so telling Sully about this.”

And Deacon resisted the urge to laugh and fall out of character.

“Enough.” Hancock said sternly. They both looked at him, still somewhat in character and confused by his intervention. “Go do what you gotta before I do.”

Whisper slipped back into herself look enough to pull down her bandana and plant a kiss on Hancock’s ruined cheek. Deacon’s eyes closed automatically, remembering where her lips had been.

_Concentrate._

“I need to change, and so do you.” She looked towards the Old State House, forever grateful she left clothes there. “Go see Daisy, she’ll let you borrow something. You know me, that’s enough to earn you a hug.”

She smiled before walking away. 

Deacon locked eyes with Hancock and may have pissed himself a little. Black eyes stared into him and Hancock’s mouth was twitching into a scowl.

_Oh, for fuck sake._

Though the revelation shouldn’t surprise him, Whisper seemed to tell Hancock everything. Certainly more than she told him, or her supposedly ‘best friend’ MacCready.

Hancock gave one threatening nod of his head before turning to follow Whisper inside.

As soon as they reached the foyer she turned slightly and slapped his arm. He grabbed it in reflex, looking at her confused, and annoyed.

“Stop pulling that shit,” she scowled.

He was a few seconds behind her, usually he didn’t make her wait. She knew the instant he didn’t follow. Men and their egos.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about.” He shrugged as he moved to place a cigarette between his ruined lips.

She walked up the stairs, slightly ahead of him so he could light his burn, and started to think of a plan. The original outfit she wore was out of the question, she could never get those bloodstains out. As she walked up the stairs a thought occurred to her.

_What would Mags do?_

It was easy to keep one man’s attention on her, it would take a bit more effort to keep three of them focused on her, especially with Magnolia in the room.

She would need something short, or something low. Chest or legs but never both. Of course it would depend on what she had available.

She settled on legs over cleavage when her eyes fell on the sequin dress Daisy had given her. She only had one pair of flesh coloured tights left, she was going to have to be real careful.

“I hope the Rail is bright tonight,” she stated as a hint towards Hancock, who was stood in the doorway. Her blue wig was…actually she wasn’t entirely sure _where_ it was, possibly buried deep in her pack, possibly in HQ. Either way it wasn’t in Goodneighbor, her own hair would have to make do.

She began to peel her jumpsuit away from her body. She’d been semi naked in front of him so many times already it didn’t even count as a big deal anymore.

“I’ll make sure Charlie puts the lights up a little, expect some complaints though.”

“ _Everyone_ in the Rail is already complaining about _something_.” She retaliated as she pulled the dress out of the drawer.

“Are we calling this a rebound thing?” He asked as he watched her step into the dress. His eyes followed it as the fabric hugged her body, painting everything delicious curve of her.

An off the shoulder, sequin black dress. Sunshine always wore black whenever she could. He thought it made her look more pale than she was already. Still perfect though.

“A _what?_ What am I on the rebound from exactly?”

“The man downstairs, probably being groped and harassed by Daisy.”

“Deacon? Seriously? Can you stop making a big deal out of things?”

She had not admitted out loud what happened to anyone. Though it wasn’t as if the huge hickey on her neck wasn’t a big enough clue.

“I’m not making a big deal outta anything, I’m just curious as to what your plan actually is.”

“Well, it’s either flirt with them, or blow their brains out.” 

That was it. She either had to make the three of them forgive her or fight her.

“And whilst I don’t think the patrons will mind, I’m sure Charlie will complain _a lot_.” She added as somewhat of a threat.

“Fine, flirt with ‘em, but I’m gonna be down there to make sure no one gets out of line.”

“John, you can’t come running to my rescue if one of them decides to put a hand where it doesn’t belong. As far as they’re concerned I’m a woman who belongs behind a desk and whilst the main man might have an inkling, I suspect the other two haven’t got a clue.”

“You sound like you know what you’re doing.” He watched her tweak every strand of hair on her head.

“That’s because I do. John, I used to do this kind of thing before anyone of you were even born. I already know I’m not in immediate danger just because we’re _here_. He doesn’t know this place. Right now, he’s in my territory, and I think he knows it.”

She stared at her reflection, perfecting every little detail.

“Just three of them, yeah?” She asked Hancock, still looking at herself. She saw him nod out the corner of her eye. “And I assume they booked a room at the Rexford?”

He nodded again. Hancock took a step forward, his eyes bearing into her as he studied every inch of her.

“Something’s eating you,” he realised.

She feigned fear and jumped. “Where?”

Hancock couldn’t help but chuckle. “What’s wrong?”

“Same thing as always, my moral compass.” She lifted a leg and hiked up her dress. She reached into the dresser and pulled out her knife strap. Hancock couldn’t help but bite his ruined lip.

“Is this about Curie?”

She stopped, the strap still half secure, and opened her mouth to respond, before closing it and sighing in wonder.

“I love that you know that,” she smiled.

“Wanna talk about it?”

She sighed. “Yeah.” She finished strapping the knife to her thigh, put her leg down and flattened her dress with her hands.

She had to talk about it with someone, the voices weren’t helping, and she couldn’t even focus on the Glowing Sea whilst it was playing on her mind.

Time was somewhat of a factor, her and Deacon had to get the three of them out of Goodneighbor and hopefully the Commonwealth, but her mental stability took precedence.

“Glory says she’s okay, or at least she will be…but it’s a hell of a lot to ask of someone.”

“You said so yourself, this G5 was gone a while ago, she’s nothing but an empty shell.”

She hadn’t remembered saying that during the early parts of her ramble, but now she did, she hated herself just a little more.

Hancock noticed her change in demeanour and squeezed her hand.

“I know Curie won’t mind, not really. She’ll just be grateful I tried. Everyone seems perfectly fine, I don’t know why I’m not.”

“Because you like to put unnecessary pressure on yourself.” He stated as fact. “Look, as far as I see it, your job was to enquire about such a thing, aint your fault what happened after. You’re a part of this because you feel morally obligated to be, and I think being there will actually help you. That way you’ll see how _okay_ everyone really is.”

“And if they’re not?”

“Then you deal with it as it happens. Stop overthinking, for once. You’re about to run a job involving four men, try focusing on tonight and worry about tomorrow, you know, _tomorrow_.”

She wished she could see the world like Hancock.

“What do you mean four?”

“You’re forgetting about Deacon. He may be on your side, but you flirted with this guy and you’re gonna have to flirt with his friends.”

“Your point being?”

“Well, I already know I’m gonna have to hold _myself_ back.” And he hadn’t done half the things Deacon had done with her, given the state of her the next morning. _Lucky bastard._

“You’re insinuating that Deacon will get jealous, and what? Shoot me?”

“No, but he might punch one of them if they put a hand in the wrong place. And blow the whole thing.”

“Deacon, more than anyone, knows I can take care of myself. And this is _his_ mission, he’s not going to ‘blow it.’”

“You’ve no idea what a high testosterone level and the male ego can do to a person.”

“Okay…then I’ll just have to work off whatever he does. Maybe signal to you to throw him out, of course it would have to be subtle, so it looks like he gets thrown out because he’s being rowdy.”

“You’re overthinking again.”

“It’s called preparing, you know, like how you count out how many mentats you’re going to need in a day.”

She (finally) made her way to the door, she opened it before glancing back at him.

“Wait ten minutes, and then leave.”

“Oh, that’s charmin’ that is.”

“Consider it revenge for making me use the _back door_.” There were some things she wouldn’t ever let him live down.

Fahrenheit was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her, when she took the last twist of the stairs.

Her eyes widened at the beautiful woman in front of her. Fahrenheit had seen her in a dress before, even less clothing on several occasions but her reaction never changed. Fahrenheit knew to appreciate beauty wherever she found it.

“Your friend’s been outside for over an hour.” She looked at her confused, wondering why she was telling her this. “You know, in case he tries to tell you different.”

Fahrenheit really didn’t tolerate bullshit. Goodneighbor was full of it enough as it was.

When she left the Old State House she spotted Deacon stood against the wall opposite. He was wearing a dark pinstriped suit, the pompadour wig their mark thought was his hair, and smoking a cigarette.

The same cigarette fell out of his grasp when he looked at her, even from this distance she looked amazing. There were enough streetlights to soften the glow of her hair, but she was compensating with a black dress that sparkled in the light as she made her way over to him.

He stuttered a few incoherent words before landing on the safest observation.

“Well, look who went to the hairdressers.” He was trying to sound casual, but inside his heart was beating hard in his chest. Her make-up was still the same, her eyes just as green as always and it had been a while since they stood this close together. She smelt nice too. The smell of blood was gone, leaving the waft of hubflowers and that beautiful natural scent that she had going for her.

She laughed lightly. “You look nice too.”

She knew he meant it as a compliment, mixed in that tiny statement was everything else he wanted to say. Her observation too for that matter.

There was something about a man in a clean suit that always got her going, especially if she was already attracted to them. It was hard not to look at him and see the lines of muscle he was hiding underneath, remember how they felt pressed up against her and she had to stop herself from biting her lip.

“You should probably go in first,” he suggested, mainly because even if she didn’t all attention would be on her anyway. “Plus, I imagine he’ll be a lot more forgiving if you talk to him.” _Because he just fucking loved talking to you last time._

“ _So_ ,” Deacon knew the expression on her face without even glancing at her. “You’re saying I’m more likely to convince him than you are…”

He knew where the sentence was going before she even finished it.

“So we agree that I’m the better liar?” she stood back on her heels, smiling smugly.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” he shook his head, though internally knowing it was what he meant. “I just mean I think you’re his type,” _because perfect is everyone’s type_ , “more so than I am anyway.”

He saw her face furrow and freeze like that long enough for him to, once again, consider the possibility of history repeating itself and Whisper being a synth.

“I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment,” she finally decided after going over it in her head. It kind of sounded like one.

She eyed the door of the Third Rail.

“Need to check with Ham that everything’s in place.”

Everything's in place? What the hell did she mean by that? What had her and Hancock been planning whilst he waited outside for over an hour?

His time with Daisy had been…the only word Deacon could use was ‘interesting’. The ghoul didn’t openly pry too much, like Hancock did, but she was certainly trying to discover the level of their relationship.

There was only so much information Deacon could give her on that, he wasn’t sure himself. Their plan to ignore what happened was so far working, but that didn’t stop his mind from trailing back to it. No matter how much he tried to stop himself.

And at that moment she looked so incredible he couldn’t look away. In a matter of seconds she would be swarmed by the patrons of the Third Rail and Deacon was getting his chance to admire her whilst he had it.

“Were you waiting long?” She casually asked as they walked towards the Third Rail.

“Only over an hour, so in the grand scheme of the world - not that long at all really.”

She stopped involuntarily. She’d really expected him to lie, after all he liked his white lies - the ones so small they didn’t even count. She was unsure of how to respond. It would have been easier if he _had_ lied.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly found herself saying. “Got wrapped up with Hancock.”

She made a face, apologising for the accidental innuendo, and then wondered why she was bothering.

“Well, Daisy was a delight - let me keep the suit and everything.” A fact he was actually happy about. It was a nice suit, and it was rare to find one so clean.

“Told you.” She looked down and felt herself blush when Deacon opened the door for her - the only man who seemed to cause this effect. “Thanks,” she breathed.

Deacon silently questioned the rosiness of her cheeks, he’d seen people open doors for her all the time. Strange for her to go timid now.

“Keep your wits about you,” he advised unnecessarily. Even he knew they weren’t in any real danger.

“Sunshine.” Greeted Ham with a tip of his hat.

“I heard John managed to fix the issue with the lights?” She asked and, whilst he didn't understand it, Deacon knew it was code.

“Yep, all working properly now, can’t say the patrons are too happy about it. Now they can see their reflections in their glasses.”

“Ahh, well I’m sure they’ll get used to it.”

Not that they’d have to, it was just for tonight.

She caught Magnolia’s eye as she descended the stairs. The singer shot her a wink with an approving nod of her head whilst she continued to sing.

“I was hoping to see you again,” came a voice in her ear at the same time a hand landed on her arm.

She moved her head and saw the same man she met in Bunker Hill.

“I’m glad to see you took my advice,” she smiled. “Listen,” she moved her body to face his, straightened her back so her breasts stood out just that little bit more and she put a hand on her side to accentuate her waist. “I’m really sorry we missed our last meeting, it was completely my fault.”

Deacon stood in silence, as he always did. He was curious, it wasn’t her fault at all.

“Leave me alone for two-seconds and I get distracted. Got myself in a right pickle, our boss wouldn’t let me out of his sight until the new year.”

The man’s face fell and she knew what he was thinking.

“Not because we’re fucking,” she reassured him. She leaned forward to speak low to him. “I, uh, haven’t been _fucked_ for quite some time.”

He visibly froze. Behind her so did Deacon, and he resisted the urge to groan at the mental image he was provided. Before being genuinely offended that she said ‘quite some time’ because whilst the rest of the Rail may not have heard her, he did and he suspected she knew.

_Why are you offended? This is the plan, to pretend it never happened._

“If you’re looking to talk business though, you’ll have to wait until morning. I’ve not been here for a while and could really use a drink.” Whilst the former part of her sentence was a lie, the latter was certainly true.

Alcohol might numb her to the fact Deacon was stood behind her.

“Then I insist you let me be your entertainment for the evening.”

Sensing an authoritative shift in the air she looked at the top of the stairs to see Hancock looking down at her. She shot him a warning look, to not be so obvious, and then looked back at her mark.

“Absolutely,” she smiled. “As long as there’s room for two of us.”

He looked behind her, his eyes widening at the realisation Deacon was there. Now Deacon was even more insulted.

“Well, I’m sure we can make some room,” he said begrudgingly.

Deacon stayed a couple of steps behind as they made their way to his table. Deacon spotted the other two, their heads perking up quicker than Dogmeat’s at the sight of her. He rolled his eyes, even though he understood where they were all coming from, it was getting hard not to feel territorial.

_And what are you territorial about exactly?_

He knew he had no right to be, Whisper was her own person long before she even knew him but Deacon had become possessive of her a while ago. 

It was particularly hard to control himself when the man put his hand on her lower back. He wasn’t exactly grabbing her ass, but his hand was too low to indicate a friendly gesture.

Whisper sat down in the booth first, their mark followed after and Deacon was all too aware that she was now stuck between them. There was no chance of a quick getaway with her sat there, and because Deacon had nowhere to sit but the other side of the table, he had no idea what everyone’s hands were doing underneath it.

On the floor was a traffic jam of feet, shoes brushing up accidentally against each other and Deacon was desperate to make contact with her.

She had her legs crossed at the knee, high enough to expose her thigh through the slit in her dress. The man on her left was obviously captivated by it. She felt their mark shift next to her and laughed when the other man’s head suddenly snapped forward.

“Sorry about that, Howie doesn’t know where to look.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” She turned her entire body to focus her attention on Howie. “I think he knows exactly where to look. What about you?” She addressed the third man she’d so far ignored. 

Deacon sat on the sidelines, his arms crossed over his chest and sighed at his uselessness. He already knew all of their attention would be on her, but evidently there was no preparing for it. A small part of him was annoyed at Whisper for taking the mission away from him - he brought her in on it after all - but he also knew she’d be more convincing than him.

And after her revelation that she used to run around dressed as the Silver Shroud he knew she had a valued interest in finding the supplier. He’d all but forgotten about it until they were in front of their mark. Deacon felt like an idiot, explaining to her about a dealer who sold chems to kids, of course she knew he was dead - she’d been the one to killed him.

Deacon suddenly found himself needing a drink - and remembering Whisper’s comment about wanting one - so he stood up. Not one of them, even Whisper, looked in his direction. He huffed in frustration and walked away, figuring Whisper would be fine on her own.

Deacon stood at an empty part of the bar - a safe distance away from Hancock to avoid suspicion, though the two men did catch each other’s eye.

Deacon was ready with his order when Charlie floated up and threw two glasses of whiskey on the bar. He looked over at Hancock again, who simple tapped the tip of his hat. Deacon would have been more grateful if it were wine.

He hadn’t even realised that Magnolia had stopped singing until she took the empty seat next to him.

“Didn’t expect it to be so bright tonight,” she began in her usual sultry tone as she gestured to Charlie for a drink. “Lucky for me I’m one of the few who look good in any light.”

Magnolia took a casual swivel of the chair, catching a glimpse of the other beautiful woman in the room.

“Looks awful good in a dress, doesn’t she?” Deacon raised an eyebrow at her question. Whisper joked about it a few times, but even the soft tone of Magnolia’s voice, Deacon was beginning to think it was true. “Looks even better out of it.”

Deacon was glad he hadn’t chosen that moment to drink his whiskey, because he would have just spat it out. She was wearing a dress when they…and she really did look better out of it…

_Oh, god._ Deacon was in trouble, to be honest he knew he had been for a while, but now he was well and truly fucked.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Not even Magnolia was convinced. “Well, okay honey. If you’ll excuse me,” she took down her shot of vodka in one smooth gulp. “The stage is calling for its star.”

Magnolia stood up and Deacon was grateful for the solitude. It was short lived when a blond woman replaced her. Immediately thinking it was Whisper Deacon turned to see a woman he’d never met before.

“Well, hello there stranger.” The woman smiled.

Deacon reciprocated the gesture but tried not to be too smug, because _holy crap_ a woman was flirting with him and he couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

“What brings you to Goodneighbor?” He asked smoothly. “Business or pleasure?”

He felt guilty, his thoughts wandering back to Whisper. This woman, with her blonde hair and chiseled face, kind of reminded him of her.

“Why can’t it be both?” she retorted and Deacon smiled even wider because it was the kind of answer Whisper would give.

He gave a sideways glance at her. She was still preoccupied with the three men they’d originally come here for, she seemed perfectly fine. Deacon could afford to inflate his ego a little while longer.

He turned back to the mysterious woman in time to watch her bring the glass to her mouth. His eyes fell on the red liquid immediately, recognising it well and a pang of jealousy surged through him.

There were a lot worse habits he had, his other indulgences were far worse - so why did he always feel like such a dick when he drank wine in front of other people? It was like everyone around him, including the women, couldn’t drink anything other than the hard stuff.

He watched the wine flow against the side of the glass as she tilted it, he watched it reach the rim and disappear between the gap her parted lips had created. He was so overcome with the desire to snatch her glass away that he hadn’t even registered that she was looking at him.

When she’d quenched her satisfaction she put the glass back on the bar. Deacon was fixated on the red tint the wine had caused on her lips. Her tongue swept over her bottom lip and Deacon groaned.

_I really want a glass of wine now._

She’d been watching, of course it didn’t look like she was (which was the point), but she’d been keeping an eye on him since he left the table. She noticed Magnolia talking to him, the not so sly swivel of her chair - not forgetting the wink the singer shot her. She watched Magnolia sashay away. Her back was up the second the woman stepped over to him. She cleared her throat and tried to refocus.

Deacon was obviously distracted and it was now down to her to get the three of them out of Goodneighbor. And, with any luck, their supplier too. They hadn’t talked business much but Tony - the name he’d given her - liked to refer back to their meeting in Bunker Hill. As if they were a couple reminiscing to their friends about how they met.

She had her arm around his neck, forcing her fingers to play with the hair on the back of his head as she shamelessly flirted with the three of them. This was part of the plan, part of the mission. What was Deacon’s excuse?

She had just enough self-control to not let it be the hand in Tony’s hair, but the hand on her leg clenched into a fist when she saw the woman brush her hand down Deacon’s arm.

“Excuse me, boys.” She tried to keep her voice level as she stood up, her eyes still fixed on the ridiculous charade in front of her. “It seems my bodyguard has got preoccupied, and this girl needs a drink.”

“Sit down, Darlin’,” suggested Howie, putting his hand on her wrist.

She took a deep breath and smiled.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I get my own drinks.”

Hancock had remained at the other end of the bar the entire time. It was the ideal position, from there he could see both of them. The second that pretty little blond thing stepped up to Deacon he flashed a look at Sunshine. Try as she might to hide everything from everyone else, Hancock saw it straight away.

The moment she was on her feet he knew she would make her way over to him. Not caring at this point that they weren’t supposed to really know each other.

She moved to a space between two chairs, one of them between the two of them to create a casual distance but still be able to speak to him without looking as though she was talking to herself.

“What’ll it be, Sunshine?” He asked as he outstretched his hand. To anyone else, it looked like he was introducing himself.

“Whiskey.” She replied as she took his outstretched hand. 

“Charlie.” Hancock raised her hand to kiss the back of it, she automatically dipped her body slightly before standing up straight. She looked at the bottles behind the bar. 

“And vodka…maybe some Day Tripper if you got some to hand.”

“It’s not that bad,” he played with his fast-emptying glass. Within ten seconds Charlie was setting down two glasses - one for her, and one for him so he didn’t have to wait again.

Hancock stared down at the newly made drink and chuckled. Sometimes, it was nice to be in charge.

In the blink of an eye, her whiskey was gone and she gestured to Charlie for two more.

“Am I gonna have to step in?” He wondered when she quickly downed two more glasses.

“Not yet,” she coughed, trying to ignore the increased burning in her throat. “I’m still in control of the situation. It’s _that_ ,” she gestured towards Deacon, “I can’t deal with.”

Hancock was about to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought, as far as he could tell from where he was sat, the whole thing was a little one sided. Deacon was indulging himself, like any red blooded male would, but Hancock could tell he wasn’t really interested.

Even sitting this far away, the back of his head more prominent than his face, and the fact he was wearing sunglasses, Hancock _knew_ Deacon was constantly looking at Sunshine. After all it was exactly what he’d been doing.

“Want me to do something about it?” he opted to ask instead, after all he told her she would be dealing with _four_ men this evening.

A part of her did, for Hancock to play on the fear Deacon had of him. More than anything she wanted to tear that woman’s face off…and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Nope,” she shook her head and pouted her lip slightly. Hancock wasn’t convinced. “I’m gonna do the job we supposed to do, then I’m going to go back to the Old State House and spend the evening with my favourite person.” She brushed her fingers over his and attempted to smile.

The almost not-even-there smile she had disappeared the second she turned her head and saw _that_ woman with her tongue shoved down Deacon’s throat, who seemed perfectly happy about it.

She gestured for just one more glass. She held it to her mouth, a dark-humourless thought occurring to her. _John probably should have given me the Day Tripper._ And she downed her last glass.

“John, its time to give me that key now,” she said casually, refusing to look away from the bottles behind the bar, her peripherals stuck on the two of them. Hands were going everywhere and she felt the overwhelming desire to rip them all off.

A hand was instinctively over the lapel of his coat, he kept the key in his shirt pocket — just like he promised.

“Sunshine?” He sounded confused, worried that she was about to kill an innocent woman. Though no one was truly innocent.

“ _John_.”

He relented immediately, mostly in fear. She’d promised she’d stop using that voice. He hated it and he hated her for using it against him. Might as well have dragged Daisy down here in person.

He handed her the key, his eyes fixed towards the bartender.

“Charlie.” The Mr. Handy looked over at him. 

She looked over, her eyes widened in astonishment and her teeth threatened to bite her lip. Without saying a single word, without moving any part of his body except raising his brow, the Mr. Handy went to the end of the bar to speak to Sapphire and she watched as members of the Neighbourhood Watch, one by one, stood up and whispered in another’s ear. This continued all the way up the stairs and, she suspected, out the door.

She turned to look at him, the surprised, enamoured yet horrified look on her face. If she didn’t love him so much she’d fuck him six ways from Sunday.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“You’re so sexy,” she said sweetly, a hint of pride lacing every word.

Hancock chuckled as she turned and walked away. She stared down at the key in her hand, technically she never retired.

It felt odd, putting the coat on after so long. The sunglasses were bigger than what she was used to, and she never used the machine gun. But it was all part of the costume. The hat was a welcome change, and the scarf served more of a purpose this time round. 

The idea of killing that fucking bitch _had_ occurred to her. But it wasn’t her fault that Deacon was an asshole. And also a complete child. He was using her (again) for the sole purpose of using her body to lure these men into a trap. Once again she was giving him what he wanted. And in return? He flirted with some random whore. The woman probably wasn’t a whore, but she had the overwhelming desire to call her every cruel name under the sun. And she didn’t understand why.

But she understood why she was so angry. Hancock had helped her clear her head and whilst she wasn’t ready to tell Deacon about Shaun or Virgil and the Glowing Sea, she was going to speak to him about her moral dilemma concerning Glory and Curie. Hancock offered advice but he didn’t understand, it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know either of them, but Deacon did. The possibility of asking him to be there had occurred to her, but she wasn’t sure if she did want him there, and Glory might not want him there either.

Still, she was struggling to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. And, inadvertently or not, Deacon always pointed her in the right direction.

But at that moment she felt the overwhelming desire to shot him in the face. After considering that to be a bad idea, she moved to take her frustration out on people who actually deserved it.

The halls of the Old State House and the streets of Goodneighbor were empty. And she meant _empty_. Which, whilst appreciated, might have been a little extreme on Hancock’s part. She knew from their conversation that they were staying at the Rexford, whilst she walked through the alley she put her hands in her pockets and felt a small piece of paper.

_15._

She wondered if Hancock had been talking to Mama Murphy whilst they were in Sanctuary, because somehow he’d planned it. Down to the last detail - which, quite frankly, didn’t sound like him at all.

They were still in the Rail, Hancock (along with a few others) would give her the time.

Her heart stopped momentarily when she walked into the empty lobby of the Rexford. She didn’t think that even Hancock had the power to get Clair to listen. 

_What the hell did he say to them?_

It was like the whole of Goodneighbor had disappeared, she couldn’t hear sounds coming from anywhere but she chose not to question it until she got to the room. Her mouth pouted in sadness at the idea of tainting a room where only beautiful things happened. She tried to look it as a way of officially ending everything she and MacCready had once been.

_Though…we can’t tell him about this._

She knew the residents of Goodneighbor would get the three of them pretty lit. There was only one bed and she knew ‘Tony’ would be the one sleeping in it, ordering the other two to stand guard. Her best bet would be to come out from the room across the hall, and when she backed out to try the door and it opened, she knew Hancock understood her line of thinking.

They’d be too drunk to patrol the hallway, they’d probably pass out on the floor. Evidently - when she was looking through the peephole - they were too drunk to even make it up the stairs. She wondered if they’d been ordered to stay outside or if Hancock had planned for them to get so drunk they passed out in the Rail.

Wherever they were it didn’t matter, the Neighbourhood Watch would deal with them - ‘Tony’ was Hancock’s gift to her. And as much as she hated herself for seeing it like that, a part of her found it to be the sweetest gesture she’d ever seen.

It just went to show how much he really knew her. Hancock understood her, and whether he approved or not, he loved her enough to help her. Like the devil on her shoulder.

She opened the door as soon as he closed his and she waited to see if he would turn the light on. When he didn’t she waited a few more minutes before using her own key to open the door and step into the darkness.

She felt at home in the darkness, just like she preferred night over day, as if it helped her connect to the darkness in herself. It seemed to cloud out her conscience. Killing, whether for the right reasons or not, was still killing. It still affected her. Each death tore at her soul. She couldn’t see herself in the dark.

Even the most evil of people look innocent when they’re asleep and, in the moonlight that beamed through the small window, ‘Tony’ was no exception.

A shot of Jet straight into the artery on his neck would knock him out long enough for her to tie him up. They had to have a conversation first. She needed to know from where the supplier was operating. She didn’t need to know how many other operations they were involved in, she just needed to find them and end them. Once and for all. 

He flinched slightly as the needle pierced his skin. She plunged the chem into his system before he had a chance to wake up completely. She looked down at him as she unbound the rope around her arm. She flung the cover away from his body and groaned, the idea of carrying dead weight, even just a few feet.

She tucked her arms under his armpits and dragged him towards the chair she’d already set out. The weight of his unconscious body reminded her of her first torture mission. As she tossed ‘Tony’ in the chair she was just grateful it wasn’t a table this time. And she wasn’t as strong back then.

It wasn’t long, only ten minutes or so. She sat on the edge of the bed, just out of his eye-line, and waited. The first thing he did when he woke up was try to move his arms, he became more alert when he realised he couldn’t and she watched as he opened his eyes, looked down at himself and wondered how on earth he got into the situation.

He was strapped to a chair, his wrists and ankles taped and bound around it. Instinct killed in and almost immediately he was trying to get himself out. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t her first time.

She made a point to scrap the chair in her hand against the floor. He flinched, his eyes widened, but he couldn’t move anything else. She had her back towards him as she placed the chair down in front of him. 

She sat down, flicked one leg high over the other so they crossed at the knee. She readjusted her gloves slightly and brushed down her coat. She clicked her tongue and looked at him. He was sweating, breathing heavily - definitely panicking.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked calmly, her voice masked by the Shroud.

“Y-yes.” He replied shaking.

“Good. That’ll save me some time then.” She laced her gloved fingers together before resting them on her lap.

They sat in silence for a moment. She casually clicked her tongue again and reached to grab the blade holstered to her side. She held the handle with her left, her right index finger pressed into the tip of the blade as she twirled it around, making sure it reflected against the moonlight.

“It seems your boss didn’t pay attention the first time around,” she told him. “Where is he located?”

‘Tony’ didn’t say a word. She waited, before sighing.

“What’s his name?”

“I aint tellin’ you shiiiiiiiit.”

She span the knife in her hand before driving it into his thigh. She quickly covered his mouth to muffle his screaming.

“That’s no way to speak to a lady. And you were so sweet on me earlier.”

He looked at her confused and she smiled. The fickle minds of the weak. She took her hand away from his mouth.

His face was red, tears were streaming down his face. She kept a firm grip on the blade still in his thigh.

“Now, I’ll ask you again. Where is your boss?” She pushed down on the handle to cement her point. He winced but didn’t say anything. She tutted and twisted the knife, not forgetting to clasp her hand over his mouth again.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” She quickly twisted the knife the opposite way. He screamed underneath her hand. “Tell me, or I will have you send a message you’ll be too fucked to deliver.”

She ripped the blade unforgivingly out of his thigh.

“You’re fucking insane!” He screamed in agony.

“From this position,” she leant forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “I have access to four major arteries. And that’s not even including the fact that I could just simply stab you in the throat and be done with it.”

She pointed the blade at the corresponding body parts as she listed them.

“I mean, I was careful with this leg,” she kicked the one she’d just stabbed, “but we’ve still got your right one. About here,” she pressed the tip against his thigh, “is your femoral artery. Your popiteal,” she pointed at his knee. “Up here we have your brachial artery,” she jabbed the blade into his bicep. “And, _right here_ ,” She heard the faint tears of stitching as she pressed the blade into his upper-right chest. “Is your subclavian.”

She fell back into the chair and let the blade rest against her leg as she kept a tight grip on it. “And cutting most of them won’t kill you, not immediately anyway. It’ll be painful, you’ll remember every second of it, and you’ll probably drown choking on your own blood.”

She took a dramatic breath and tutted as she shook her head.

“Seems an awful lot of trouble to go to for someone who probably wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

She didn’t have to meet his boss to know what he was like. People in that position of power were always the same, especially those on the wrong side of the line.

“You fuck this up and you were never born. Your co-workers and so-called friends have never heard of you and everyone you ever cared about never existed.” She said firmer. “And that’s not even me threatening you, that’s exactly what your boss is going to do. So, your choice. Stay loyal, and die before you reach the gate, or tell me where he fucking is and you can go wherever you like.”

 

* * * *

 

Usually Deacon didn’t mind the attention. Hell, it was fun in the beginning - it had been a while since a woman flirted with him of her own accord, so he indulged a little. But some women get a little too _full-on_ when drinking. Anna…or Aria….maybe, Susan? Deacon couldn’t remember. Either way she was no exception. Tipsy flirting is sexy, drunk drooling? Not so much.

By the time he got away from her Whisper wasn’t there. He walked towards Hancock, who was sat at the bar.

“Where is she?” He asked as he took the empty stool next to him.

“Doin’ her job, I’d imagine.” He gestured his head in the direction of the now empty booth.

Whisper, and all three of their marks were gone. Whisper had flirted her way into bed with all three of them. 

Now Deacon understood why Hancock seemed so upset. Deacon kind of was too.

_I…I…I didn’t tell her to sleep with them!_

“Here,” came Hancock’s gravelled voice behind him. He heard the unmistakable sound of glass hitting wooden and turned around to see a glass of whiskey. “She’ll come back when she’s done.”

Both men internally groaned at their mental images. For Deacon Whisper was trapped between three, fat, sweating bodies, whilst for Hancock, she was washing blood off her hands in his sink. _His sink!_

The two men sat and drank in silence for over an hour before the Rail became lively again. Not that Deacon had noticed anything different.

If Hancock still had hairs on the back of his neck they would have stood up in that moment. It was like he could sense her, before he even saw her. Just the sound of her feet walking across the floor alerted him. When he turned she was walking down the stairs. She was back in the black dress she was wearing when she left, she didn’t _look_ any different. But Hancock still felt the overwhelming desire to run up and check on her. He didn’t. Mostly because he knew she’d punch him, and if she was still angry…possibly stab him.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” smiled Deacon as he span around in his chair, a little too fast and almost falling off.

_He’s drunk_. “Speak for yourself,” she smiled, “I thought you’d be eaten alive by now.”

Hancock sat a little dumbfounded, his jaw went lax uncontrollably. She raised her hand, without looking away from Deacon - so he wouldn’t notice - and closed his mouth for him.

Their pathological need to lie and hide their feelings from each other, and pretend everything’s okay, was giving Hancock a headache. It seemed more trouble than it was worth. They seemed awfully determined to want to commit to each other in a way they wouldn’t even admit to themselves.

Hancock thought it was time someone locked the two of them in a room and let them thrash out their issues. He wasn’t saying he was going to be the one to do it, just that _someone_ should.

“Where’s your friends?” he asked and she heard the faint waft of jealousy in his tone. She glanced over at Hancock, her eyebrow cocked.

_That’s why he got drunk? Because he thought I was sleeping with them?_

Hancock nodded with a shrug and she shook her head. She looked sympathetically at a drunk Deacon. She felt the desire to rest her hand on his cheek but resisted.

“They’ve been taken care of.”

Not in the way she’d be hoping. ‘Tony’ was more loyal, and more stupid, than she had originally anticipated. But he gave in, in the end. They always do.

“No one besides Fred will sell chems in Goodneighbor ever again,” she looked at Hancock too as she spoke. “I think we got our point across.”

Hancock didn’t know what she meant, and he didn’t want to either. When it came to Sunshine, the darkest parts of his imagination were sometimes safer than reality.

“Cool,” breathed Deacon and she held her breath as the stench of stale whiskey washed over her. 

Whiskey. Of all things to drink. He really must have wanted to get hammered.

“Does that mean we can go back to HQ now?” He asked like a small child.

_You’re meant to be the adult_. “Not tonight, I’m too tired and you’re too drunk.”

“So, we’re gonna sleep here?”

“Well, not _here_ ,” she joked and Deacon snorted. She smiled, drunk Deacon was kind of cute. “But I think we’re safer in Goodneighbor than anywhere else.”

“That’s because you’re always here,” sighed Deacon as she moved to help him stand up.

“Need a hand, Sunshine?” Hancock asked when she struggled to hold his weight for a second.

“No thanks, John.” She was talking to him, but she sure as hell wasn’t looking at him. “I got it.”

Hancock watched as she put Deacon’s arm over her shoulders and helped drag him across the bar floor. She struggled a few times but he knew she would refuse help. Despite everything else she was feeling for him, she still felt the overwhelming desire to take care of Deacon. A man at least a decade older than her, if you forget about the extra two-hundred and ten.

She smiled gratefully at Ham when he opened the door for her.

“We’ll sleep in the Old State House,” she decided, mainly because it was closer than anything else and Deacon was heavy.

“Okay,” he said sleepy against her. Her eyes closed, just for a moment, when he pressed his face against her neck. “You smell nice.”

“Thanks, you smell like whiskey.”

“I know,” he breathed.

Once again, the door was opened for her and whilst she smiled gratefully, she was running out of energy. There was no way she was going to get the two of them up the stairs. 

“Clyde?” she strained as she called to a nearby ghoul.

“What’s up, Sunshine?”

“Where’s the nearest room?”

He looked at her confused. “I can just carry him for ya.”

“No, it’s okay. Just point me in the right direction.”

Deacon kept a wide, watchful eye on the ghoul as they walked away from him.

“He seems mad, is he mad at me?”

“No, he’s not mad at you.”

“You seem mad too, are _you_ mad at me?” She went to respond, but drunk Deacon didn’t give her the chance. “Please, don’t be mad at me. They can be mad at me, but not you.”

She felt his words hit her chest and she tried to ignore it. He was drunk, nothing he said counted.

“I’m not mad at you, Deacon.” She was, a little, but he seemed too fragile at that moment. And she knew it wasn’t just to do with the whiskey.

She opened the door with difficulty and walked them both through it.

She managed to get him over to the bed before she lost her hold on him. His foot hit her ankle and they both fell on a heap on the bed. She stared up at Deacon as he stared silently at her, she stiffened when he started to move his face towards her.

“Deacon.” She warned softly.

She saw him blink. “Yeah, sorry.”

He moved off her to get inside the cover. When he was settled inside she got up to fall asleep on the sofa.

A callous hand around her wrist stopped her before she moved too far.

“Stay,” he pleaded behind her. Against her better judgement she turned to look at him and was just grateful he was wearing his sunglasses. “Please stay with me.”

She knew it was a bad idea. He wasn’t thinking properly. It was better for both of them if she slept on the couch.

She looked over at it. If she could just pry herself out of his grip, she could make it to the couch before Deacon got up. Hell, he was so drunk he probably wouldn’t be able to get up even if he wanted to.

“Please.” He said again. He sounded so sad, she couldn’t help but look back at him.

Her mouth fell open in astonishment.

“That’s not fair,” she said softly, a faint smile creeping over her face. His eyes really were beautiful.

“Is that a yes?”

“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll stay with you for a while.”

She willed her body to stop shaking as she moved the blanket. She took a deep breath as she sat on the edge of the mattress and it took all her strength to move her body to lay down.

The only solace she could find was in the fact she was still wearing her dress.

Immediately Deacon dragged her into his body, pressing his hand against her stomach as he moaned contently against her neck.

_We are so totally fucked._ She could nothing but stare out in front of her. It would be impossible to sleep, she was too terrified to imagine what her sleeping body would let Deacon do to her. Not that she felt as though she was in any real danger but waking up like this tomorrow morning might be awkward enough. It was unlikely that Deacon would remember anything.

“You smell nice.” He hummed as he readjusted his body. Intentionally or not he pushed his hips into her and she resisted the desire to push back. She could feel her skin burning, trying to put it down to the heat of the dress, but she knew it wasn’t that. 

“You said that,” she mumbled as she patted the back of the hand of her stomach

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“Don’t usually do a lot of those,” she pointed out casually.

“It’s easier that way,” he said dreamily as he moved his head on the pillow. His arm remained wrapped around her waist and she swore she felt his grip tighten.

It did and he hugged her even closer, the contours of their bodies pressed against each other and she felt that familiar safeness once again.

“Deacon?” He grumbled against her shoulder and her eyelids fluttered. “I’m not going anywhere.” She reassured him and wrapped her hand over the one on her stomach. He exhaled a sigh of relief against her skin and she felt him relax.

“Good.” She heard him breath and she waited for him to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this then you made it all the way through, to which I am grateful and proud. I realise I could have cut it a little early, but I'm not one for cliffhangers. The slow progression of their relationship is torture enough.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.
> 
> xx


	40. We Don't Have To Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon finds himself extremely hungover and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest it has ever taken me to update, apologies but life has been crazy. I got reinstated at my work and it's been a manic month.
> 
>  
> 
> (Chapter Title: [We Don't Have To Dance - Andy Black](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fEoWA9Vz3A))

_It were better to be eaten to death with rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion._

 

She was torn between doing what she wanted, and what she knew she should be doing. She wanted to stay and surround herself with the warmth and security she felt whenever she was this close to Deacon, and it had been a while since they’d been so close. For obvious reasons, she realised as better-left-forgotten memories resurfaced whenever his fingers pressed into her skin.

The rational side of her was screaming at her to get as far away from him as possible but Deacon wasn’t making it easy. His grip didn’t cease, even after he fell asleep. Every time she moved even the slightest distance away his hand was right there to drag her back into him again. The only thing she could do was turn on her back and stare at the ceiling.

Once or twice she braved looking over at Deacon, deeply regretting it every time she did. She finally realised that his sunglasses weren’t just protecting him, they were protecting everyone else too. Even asleep she could read the torment on his face, the tired expression that came from the universe constantly throwing crap at him, she knew the feeling. She was still young but if she kept up this lifestyle she would have the same look too.

She had never really imagined herself getting old, it was easier to function if she just thought one day at a time, but her search for Shaun was forcing her to think further into the future than she ever had before.

Deep down she knew there was only so much preparing she could do, there were only so many precautions she could take whilst venturing into the one place people weren’t known to come back from. She was going into the Glowing Sea in search of a man, who may or may not even be there, and she didn’t even know where to start.

Keeping the newfound information to herself probably wasn’t helping either, but how could she tell anyone? They were all too close to her to see clearly, and she wasn’t ready to see their faces when she told them. Especially Deacon, he was more fragile than he would have people believe, using humour to mask his fear of abandonment.

At the sound of someone moving around on the floor above them her mind wandered to Hancock and she sighed. If it had been up to her Tony and his henchmen would have actually walked out rather than being tossed out - she was hoping they had by now at least - she would have left Deacon to it and spent the nights talking to Hancock. She would never stop hoping that things would eventually go her way.

She figured she owed him an apology and so she risked rolling out of Deacon’s grip, grateful when she was successful and she crawled across the floor, still in her dress, towards the door.

 

* * * *

 

A chorus of screaming joints awoke Deacon from his sleep. He sat up, groaning as his back protested to the movement, rubbed his eyes (trying to nurse the headache he could feel making its way to the surface) and looked around the unfamiliar room.

The initial wave of shock and panic quickly subsided when he realised he was safe, well…safe- _ish._ He wasn’t shackled to the wall, couldn’t feel any obvious injuries (except a few internal ones) and he’d woken up in a bed of all places. No, he definitely wasn’t a prisoner of some crazy raider. 

Still, there were many questions entering his head at the same time. What the hell happened, why was he alone and, more importantly, where the hell was he?

Figuring he might be able to answer at least one of those questions if he left the room, he got out of bed. He placed his hands on the small of his back and stretched, joints falling back into their rightful places with a satisfying ‘pop’.

He opened the door and his eyes fell on the somewhat familiar corridor. It wasn’t the stretch of pathway that he recognised but more the disheveled interior of the walls and carpet. Before he reached the end of the walkway he already had a suspicion as to where he was, when he saw the heavily armoured woman sat on a chair at the end his theory was confirmed.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.” Fahrenheit commented as she took a drag of her cigarette, not bothering to take her eyes off the door of the Old State House. 

The bodyguard caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. It was safe to say he looked like shit, and was definitely suffering from the night before. Everyone was. Hancock had been inconsolable since sunrise, not long after his little Sunshine left him in what Fahrenheit could have mistaken as floods of tears.

It was always odd, to see a strong person break. Everyone was used to her screaming, swearing at the top of her lungs, but normally she’d go off, kill something and come back as though nothing was different, but this time there was no screaming, not even so much as a raised voice or the sound of anything breaking. Fahrenheit supposed that was what she found the most disturbing.

It was alright for Deacon, he’d been unconscious for the past six hours, and a lot had happened in such a small space of time.

“How did I-“ his question trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

“You didn’t make an ass of yourself.” She assured him. Well, not really anyway, at least not by Goodneighbor standards. “But you got nice and drunk, thought we’d let you sleep it off, and you were too heavy to drag upstairs.”

A distorted memory flashed in his mind. He vaguely remembered being guided down the corridor he’d just come down, he definitely had his arm around someone, but he couldn’t recall the bulkiness of Fahrenheit’s armour. Maybe one of the Neighbourhood Watch helped him instead.

Fahrenheit looked at him as if she could read his thinking, and the look on her face told him that even if she did have the answers to some of his questions she wasn’t going to let _him_ know that. She told him he didn’t make an ass of himself, but he must have done something to make everyone give him the stink eye. 

The bodyguard leaned forward to pull out the pack of smokes in her pocket. She took a moment for herself, placing the cigarette between her lips and enjoying that first toke with a hiss of air. She let the smoke flow out of her mouth as she breathed it out through her nostrils, she knew how intimidating it made her look.

“The boss is upstairs,” Deacon looked at her, not in that moment wondering where Hancock was at all. “Figure you’d want to thank him for the hospitality.” She gave a single nod as she raised her eyebrows knowingly and expectantly.

Deacon shifted uncomfortably, being in a room alone (and unarmed) with Hancock was not on the top of his list of places to be. And he knew that it was only going to be about one thing, for Hancock there was nothing else to talk about. He sighed heavily in defeat, of course he was going up there, despite knowing that he would get tangled up in a conversation he’d rather not be having, he really did need to thank the Mayor - most people would have just left him in the street.

“And he’s not in the greatest of moods.” She warned with a dry tone.

Deacon’s feet suddenly seemed reluctant to move.

Hancock was out on the balcony, his butt perched on the railing as he smoked a necessary cigarette, amongst the high of the mentats he’d taken not long before. He’d spent most of the morning storming around his office, opening drawers and slamming them shut, unnecessarily loudly, when he came up empty. It wasn’t as if he was looking for anything specific, just a distraction.

He didn’t mean what he said, at least in the way it came out, but he’d spent an hour getting his ear chewed off by Clair about the state of Room 15. Hancock had made the mistake of accusing the woman of overreacting and that was when she decided he needed to have a look for himself.

It was a sight he’d never forget, the Mayor himself was no saint, he’d led an extremely colourful life and seen some crazy things - hell, he’d seen Sunshine rip off a guy’s head with her bare hands - but not in the deepest, darkest parts of his brain could he have conjured up an image that matched.

Sunshine had requested a few Neighbourhood Watchmen to dispose of the body, they’d been rather quiet on their return and now Hancock had seen the amount of blood covering the walls, he could see why. How Sunshine managed to do all that damage and not paint herself in blood was beyond him. Once again he thanked his lucky stars that she was on the side of ‘fuck the Institute’.

Something was bothering her, he could tell the second she walked through the gate, and he’d been looking forward to sitting her down and talking about it, but _that_ never happened, heightened emotions got in the way. This morning being his case and point.

She never said out loud that she was going it alone for a while but it was pretty much a given when she stormed out of his office and ran out of the town, but Hancock wasn’t sure how he felt about an unconscious Railroad spy sleeping off a major hangover inside the Old State house. It wasn’t as though Deacon had never slept in Goodneighbor before but he normally opted to sleep outside on the ground, and normally he was on Railroad business. Today he was neither, he was just a regular man - a civilian - and like he did with most ordinary people when they were being stupid Hancock felt the desire to throw a bucket of cold water over him and tel him to run after her

“Hancock?” The ghoul chuckled at the sound of the spy’s voice.

_Speak of the devil._

He took one final drag and flicked the rest over the edge.

Hancock turned and gave the spy a once over, he seemed fine if not a little rough around the edges, but copious amounts of alcohol will do that to you. Deacon would make it a lot easier for himself if he just admitted out loud that he hated whiskey.

“It aint your fault.” He said sternly with a pointed finger to match.

Deacon’s face washed with confusion. _Okay…_ He wasn’t sure what Hancock was referring to but it was nice to know it wasn’t his fault, whatever ‘it’ was.

“I mean it.” Deacon tried to nod sincerely in understanding. “Whiskey really doesn’t agree with you, does it?” Hancock smirked. “Well, it’s probably a good thing you don’t remember, for now at least, and enough of us remember it just fine.”

He looked over at the spy, internally chuckling when he noticed the dozens of questions on the man’s face.

“No, you didn’t come here alone. Yes, you were with Sunshine. Yes, she’s fine,” physically anyway. “No, she’s not here.”

At least that answered a few of his thoughts.

“She’s gone to see Preston, she was gonna send a letter but said this needed the personal touch.”

And that helped explain at least one of the letters he remembered her holding at some point in the past.

Personally Hancock doubted it required the ‘personal touch’, she just ended up making it her excuse to walk out of the room and out of the town, leaving her hungover partner in one of his spare rooms. He could normally figured out Sunshine pretty well, they’d spent enough time together for him to be able to, but it felt as though she had run away, from him or Deacon he wasn’t sure.

For a split second Hancock looked at him pleadingly before returning to his stoic demeanour.

“Don’t suppose you know what’s eating her?” Deacon shook his head, still confused. “ _Fuck_.”

It was a shot in the dark, he knew that. If it involved Deacon then she certainly wouldn’t have told him but she usually told one of them and between the two of them they could get the whole picture. Her outburst to his offhand comment was starting to make sense, something was affecting her so badly that everything had put her on edge. Last night certainly hadn’t helped, she did what she had to do in order to focus and of course she had to indulge Deacon whilst the spy was intoxicated - you can’t talk sense to a drunk man - but flipping from one emotion to another that quickly was bound to backfire at some point. Sunshine had spend less than a year dealing with emotions she’d so far ignored, her body and her mind were still adjusting and maybe she’d realised she wasn’t as emotionally numb as she first thought.

Given everything that happened to her, he could hardly blame her. She tried to rid herself of her humanity in an effort to continue, she definitely still had her humility, but Hancock guessed she just wasn’t ready to continue even more. Which meant she was internally arguing with herself, the classic fight or flight response, she closed herself off, bottling it up because she always thought that was the best thing to do and then one day, she explodes over the tiniest thing. Today had been that day and Hancock felt shitty because he’d never caused it before. 

She’d been distant, focused on something other than the here and now. Hancock didn’t say anything but it had been since the day she and Nick walked through the memories of that mercenary fella. At the thought of the synth detective an idea came to Hancock.

“Fancy taking a detour on your way back to wherever it is you go?”

Deacon looked at him, hopeful, intrigued at the possibility of adventure. Though the desire to run after Whisper was overwhelming. It would be nice to see what the Minutemen had done with their old turf.

“If there’s anyone that might know what’s going on, it’s Nick.”

Deacon wasn’t sure how he felt about being reunited with Valentine, he’d not seen the detective since he left Sanctuary, and so much shit had happened since then. The synth was good at staying neutral, always saw both sides of a story, but just like everyone else, Valentine was ridiculously protective of a woman who didn’t need protecting.

Hancock shook his head at the shock and fear mixture that spread over Deacon’s face for just a second. For a man with such a dangerous occupation he was terrified of the wrong people, present company included. Of all people Deacon could be worrying about, he’d chosen the one man who wouldn’t judge anyone for what happened. The universe just seemed determined to screw with the two kids who, in his opinion, had suffered enough, and the way it kept thrusting them together was just plain cruel.

Maybe she really was running away from Deacon, and Hancock couldn’t necessarily blame her. She was making the right decision to go it alone for a while, it would be good for both of them, and at least this time they parted amicably. And no one got punched.

No one had admitted anything out loud but there are remnants of a black eye underneath Deacon’s sunglasses. Then he remembered Sunshine’s inability to walk in a straight line like a normal person, and he resisted the edge to hug the man. Such a bad move on her part, to sucker punch a guy after that. He tutted at her.

 

* * * *

 

She kicked the small stone over the edge and watched in drop into the water, a tiny ripple forming as it broke the surface. She sighed heavily, her mind drifting to Hancock, then Deacon and then back to Hancock.

She knew she overreacted, she knew he overreacted too, he didn’t mean anything by it, Hancock never did, but still, it was something that stung, affecting her so suddenly and so vastly that she found herself trying to hide the fact she was crying.

_“Well, I guess you got what you wanted after all - you did spend the evening with your favourite person.”_

It initially hurt because she couldn’t believe Hancock would doubt anyone other than him was her favourite person. He was just mad, confusing his shock for anger, but as she looked at him she wondered just how many more times she would see it before going into the Glowing Sea, and then if she would ever see it again. 

Deacon was by no means her favourite person, he was…she didn’t even know what he was. To her at least. Their relationship (if she could call it that) had always been complicated, people like them thrived on it, but after everything that happened last night she knew she needed to get away from him. At this point she wasn’t sure who was torturing who, or if they were just torturing each other.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon when she finally decided to give up pretending to be asleep. Deacon had kept a ridiculously tight grip on her throughout the night, his breath against her bare skin being more of a comfort than it should have been.

It had been a mistake from the beginning, ever since she found out he’d been following her she should have walked away, they should have gone their separate ways instead of what she did do and thrive on her obsessive need to figure out how much he knew about her, and find out just as much about him in return. To have continued their game of one upping each other to end up…she didn’t even know where.

She doubted he’d remember, given his intake of whiskey, and that was fine, for him, but she’d been completely sober and she wouldn’t be able to forget even if she wanted to, and she desperately wanted to.

It was always going to be difficult, she knew that, but she had thought she’d been more prepared, that emotions wouldn’t factor in as much as they did. Punching him may have been extreme, as may have running away but the second they kissed their entire relationship changed and no matter how hard either of them were prepared to try there was no going back. In that moment, after the greatest high of her entire life, she felt an overwhelming surge of anger towards him - because everything that happened between them was his fault.

Her thoughts had been on the Railroad long before Deacon finally found the courage to drop the holotape but he still tried to push her towards them and she couldn’t help but feel as though maybe he had. Never emptying her pack and leaving the holotape at the bottom had certainly kept her mind on the organisation and perhaps, just like everything else in her life, the decision to find them hadn’t been hers at all.

Her time with them hadn’t been completely wasted, she’d learnt a lot from all of them - especially Deacon - and she’d met some truly remarkable people but it had given her an excuse to ignore her fear and subsequently ignore Valentine. 

MacCready wouldn’t have indulged her, well not as much as Deacon and Hancock anyway, and he certainly would have dragged her to Valentine’s office himself if he thought she was taking too long. Even if he would never say it out loud to her, they both knew she’d taken too long, no matter how many decades had already passed. If it had been up to MacCready she would probably have gone into the Glowing Sea by now, instead of just preparing herself for it.

The broken ground beneath her feet changed to cobblestones, a lot cleaner and tidier than the last time she walked this path. She continued forwards, trees bunching closer together the further she travelled. She vaguely heard the sound of the gates opening somewhere ahead of her.

“General?” spoke a voice she hadn’t heard in a very long time.

She smiled at the ground, all those questions laced in a single word. Was it her, was she okay, was she still their General?

She started at his feet, scanning over every unchanged inch of him.

“Hello, Preston.” she smiled, almost in relief, life seemed far less complicated the last time she saw him.

They never had that sort of relationship, outside the borders of professionalism, but she really had missed him. So she didn’t stop herself from reaching up to embrace him in a hug, a move that no doubt confused him at first but he reciprocated with a chuckle.

“”It’s been a long time.” He commented.

“Too long.”

He gave his General a once over, he couldn’t ever remember seeing her without a bandana around her face, but this time it hung casually around her neck. Everything else about her was exactly the same thought, right down to the jumpsuit and the sunglasses that seemed permanently attached to her face. It had been almost seven months but she seemed to have changed a great deal, right down to her core. Preston always recognised a person in need of help.

“Everything okay?” He asked, not expecting her to truly answer. If he recalled correctly, she never liked opening up about herself, but something must have brought her to the Castle after all this time.

She sighed and looked over her shoulder at her pack, the letters inside. She had thought about giving them to Daisy on her way out of Goodneighbor but she realised how cowardly it was, to tell him he was in charge if something happened to her. To tell him she could die in a letter was easy but it wasn’t about that, Preston deserved more. But what she truly realised was that she couldn’t make the decision to meet with the Elder of the Brotherhood as the General of the Minutemen without consulting him first, and she wasn’t sure the Commonwealth could wait for his corresponding letter.

“Actually no,” she finally admitted, “but it can wait. First I really want to see what you’ve done with the place. I can tell you’ve been busy,” she added as she looked at the newly constructed walls of Fort Independence.

“Of course,” he tapped his hat at her and turned, offering his arm. She took it with a smile. “I would have borrowed Sturges but I thought Marcy might finally lose it.”

 

* * * *

 

Deacon passed the first eyebot, then the first guard, and felt the overwhelming desire to go find his costume. It wasn’t normal for him to be this close to Diamond City and not be dressed like one of them. He was just glad no one recognised him.

Piper’s sister was stood on her usual box when he descended the stairs. She caught his eye but neither of them said a word.

“Took you long enough,” she commented loud enough for him to hear as he walked by. 

Deacon weaved his way through the crowds of people and headed towards Valentine’s office. 

“Ha!” Came a voice he had not been expecting. “Good. She saved me a job.”

It was obvious what the reporter was referring to, the swelling had disappeared a while ago and the bruise wasn’t so black anymore, just a putrid tint of green. Deacon had been toying with the idea of telling people he’d been infected wth FEV but he knew he’d be the only person to see the comical side of it, he usually was.

“Piper,” said Valentine warningly before looking at Deacon. He was alone, but given the look on the spy’s face they didn’t part on bad terms, which is a step up from their last parting Valentine was sure. “I could have guessed you were the friend Kellogg had been referring to. Is that why you were so willing to take my advice?”

Deacon nodded like a small child being told off.

“How long?” asked an angry Piper. The desire to walk up to him and slap him around the face was overwhelming. Blue would never talk about it, she never talked about anything, but she was still a woman, still had feelings and a lot of them were for Deacon. Girls tend to side with each other over matters of the heart, even if technically speaking it’s no one’s fault.

“Officially? Christmas Day.” He replied, looking at Valentine. He distinctly heard Piper called him an ‘asshole’.

“The day you came to my office.” Valentine nodded.

Piper only knew her side and Valentine’s, the detective himself knew he only had half the story. Deacon’s always been good with secrets, that was what made him just a fantastic spy, but it looked as though this one had been eating him alive. Valentine could empathise, having information that could hurt someone you care for is never easy, there’s no good way to tell it so Deacon did what most people do in that situation, he kept trying to wait for a good time to tell her and eventually never did - until it was too late.

The information must have hit her like a board to the face and he supposed people back in her day actually made a big deal out of Christmas, the real Nick Valentine had a few memories of it and it seemed pleasant enough.

Deacon desperately wanted to ask how she was. Whisper was acting fine around him but Nick had seen her quite soon after finding out (and the other thing but there was no way Deacon was talking about _that_ out loud, Piper might actually slap him rather than just threatening to) and maybe her emotions had been just too raw to hide.

“She was okay, considering,” Nick answered his unspoken question. “We didn’t really have time to discuss it, the Prydwen fly over the minute we stepped outside.”

And that explained how she knew about the Brotherhood arriving in the Commonwealth, although the only person who seemed oblivious to that information was Dez. Deacon was sure the boss knew, hell there was no way she couldn’t know, but why she was focusing on a safehouse at this point in time was beyond him, that was probably another reason Whisper was reluctant to give her anything,

“She met me in Goodneighbor and we went to Doctor Amari, Amari worked her magic and she took a trip through Kellogg’s brain.” Deacon shuddered, that was one journey he wouldn’t be queueing up for any time soon. “I was there too, though barely.”

Though Deacon was shocked to hear it, he wasn’t surprised he was hearing it for the first time. In the realm of all things real this was on the top of the list, there was no way she would ever tell him. Anything Kellogg related was a sore spot for both of them.

“Are you sorry?” Piper finally asked. It had been eating away at her since he walked through the door. The fact that he had the nerve to be in Valentine’s office and not be grovelling at Blue’s feet had inflamed her sense of female solidarity.

“Piper.” Valentine warned again. “It’s not his fault.”

Valentine had a feeling he was the only one in the room who thought so. He’d known the spy for a while, knew more about him than most and he had a front row seat to the first time he got truly drunk and blurted out his entire life’s history in Hancock’s office. He didn’t remember the next day and the other two decided not to mention it, not even to each other. Though Valentine had a feeling Hancock had been telling her a few things about her colleague.

“He could have told her.” She argued, forgetting he was even in the room. “He led her on!”

Men didn’t understand things at the best of times, Piper could hardly expect Nick to understand as well.

“How did he lead her on?” Valentine enquired, Deacon was curious too, if anything they’d been leading each other on

“Because he…Urgh.” Piper groaned and shook her head, there were just some things that couldn’t be explained. “Vault 81!” she suddenly blurted and Deacon looked at her as she turned to face him. “You had an entire week to tell her.”

“She was heavily drugged and thought she was hallucinating.” Defended Valentine, Piper had said that herself. Even if Deacon had told her, she wouldn’t have believed him.

In Deacon’s defence, he had tried to push her towards the subject but she kept refusing to talk about it, falling asleep every time they got close to breaching it.

“It doesn’t explain why he manipulated her.” Both men looked at her confused. “Following her, spending every moment with her, touching her every chance he got,”

Valentine saw Deacon shift in place and knew he was becoming uncomfortable.

“…indulging her. Saving her life…”

“Piper.” Deacon looked like he wanted the ground to open up beneath him.

“Whether he choses to admit it or not, we both know he was the one to carry her to Goodneighbor. Following her.” She repeated, she had run out of things to list. Plus, he’d followed her for a really long time.

“Piper!” bellowed Valentine, loud enough to startle both of them. “Enough.”

Deacon shot him an invisible look of gratitude.

“No one is innocent, no one is guilty. It is what it is, and it’s a messy situation we’re all in. Now is not the time to fight over petty nonsense.” He advised both of them. “Now, I don’t remember too much of what we saw in Amari’s office, but I know we figured out they teleport. I remember a courser telling Kellogg to track down a scientist named Virgil, but I _can’t_ remember where he said to look. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that she does and she knows what has to be done next.” He looked directly at Deacon. “We all know how stubborn she is, she won’t tell anyone any real information until she thinks of a plan.” He stood up from his desk, resting his fists against the surface as he leant forward. “So, until then, everyone go back to their day jobs and wait. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a little longer.”

Piper huffed and stormed out of the office. As soon as the door was closed behind her, Valentine reached into his desk drawer to bring out two glasses. Deacon sat down as Valentine grabbed a nearby bottle of whiskey.

Why did everyone insist on drinking whiskey? Deacon was getting tired of pretending he liked it.

“Was- _Is_ she really okay?” he asked when he took the glass held out for him. He looked down at the brown liquid with a grimace.

He felt like a coward just for asking, he’d been with her since then and could have asked her himself, but he knew she’s just lie and say she was okay, because she wouldn’t be stupid enough to say the word ‘fine’. 

“I think so, she seemed pretty level headed. But I sense there’s a key piece of information I’m missing?”

That much he had deduced already. Obviously a lot more had happened to her since they left each other outside of Fort Hagen, the fact that both MacCready and Hancock felt the need to be there for ‘moral support’ meant there were bigger factors at play.

“All of this didn't happen just a decade ago, it had happened six decades ago.”

Valentine looked like he almost short circuited. In a single second a wave of memories flushed him and dots connected all over the place. The little kid on the floor of Kellogg’s apartment, the unknown date in the file, the unmistakeable voice of Travis. She was watching a synth, and she knew it. Someone had planned it, why else would they bother to put the kid in Diamond City, rather than keep him in the Institute?

“Then it’s definitely not your fault.” He stated when his brain had finished processing. It was no one’s fault other than the bastard who was in charge of the Institute. The sooner she thought of a plan, the better, and Valentine was even considering giving her advice, if he could find her.

“Piper’s right though,” Deacon tossed back half the glass just because of that realisation. “I had plenty of opportunities to tell her.”

“You just never found the right time?” He guessed correctly. Deacon nodded shamefully. “There’s never a good time to tell someone something like that. Besides, you two never tell each other anything, why break the habit of a lifetime?” He offered lightheartedly. Both of them seemed to be punishing themselves for something out of their control.

Deacon sighed, scowling when the taste of whiskey returned to his tongue.

“Hancock says she’s gone to Castle.”

“Makes sense, finding the Institute involved both the Minutemen and the Railroad, she’s probably just keeping Preston caught up on events. I’m sure she’ll get around to your boss soon enough.”

“I’m sensing tension between them,” Deacon stated, hoping Valentine would have some insight, he normally did.

“I think the tension is a little more one sided, girl rarely lays claim to her position in with Minutemen, but it’s hard for her to bite her tongue when she thinks your boss is going about things the wrong way. She doesn’t think she’s in a position to talk back, but mark my words, the day she does tell your boss, she won’t be there as a Railroad agent.”

Whisper had made that pretty clear to him already.

Deacon left suspecting that Valentine had more of a lecture prepared but it was time to head back to HQ. Deacon wondered if Dez would even notice Whisper’s lack of appearance, though he supposed everyone was used to not seeing her much by now. It was funny how no one had realised there was a pattern to how much was going inside the war room and how much they saw of her, and if anyone had noticed they certainly weren’t commenting out loud.

“Where’s Whisper?” Glory asked. No ‘Hello, Deacon how are you?’ No friendly but painful punch on the air, just straight to ‘where’s my favourite spy?’ 

“Minutemen business.” Deacon’s eyebrow questioned the sudden sullen look on Glory’s face. “You okay?”

“What? Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

Glory knew better than to use that word.

“Just thought she’d be here, that’s all.” It was becoming a regular occurrence, the two of them coming in and out separately. “But I guess she had to talk to them eventually.”

Deacon questioned her even more. _He_ knew why she was going to Preston, how on earth did Glory?

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, nothing,” came the obvious lie. “Just that she always says she’s on Minutemen business, but it’s nice to know she actually is for a change.”

It was a half lie he realised, he’d taught her too well.

Deacon was curious as to what Glory knew, or at least thought she did. Just the idea of Whisper telling Glory something she wouldn’t tell him had him feeling jealous.

And when exactly did she have the time to tell her in the first place? 

That question was answered quickly when he remembered that there was an obvious time gap between Whisper coming back to HQ and him a few hours later. He was probably walking towards HQ whilst they were talking about it.

“Something I can help you with?” He asked, still noticing the lost expression on Glory’s face.

“No thanks.” She replied so quickly it was hard for Deacon not to feel insulted. “This is mine and Whisper’s thing.”

Okay, he was definitely insulted now.

“Okay, sure,” he shrugged. “But you remember our deal, you get her in bed I want proof.”

He walked away and unmistakably heard Glory mutter behind him.

 

* * * *

 

Her mouth had remained open during the entire tour, they had accomplished so much in such a small space of time. All the walls had been rebuilt and reinforced and the only debris that remained was one small pile in the corner. Preston had also told her they had managed to connect all the lights, until a fuse blew and no one could figure out where it had come from, she promised to take a look.

“This is truly incredible, Preston. You should be proud.”

“I’m proud of what we’ve managed to accomplish and I’m grateful to have you as our General.” He noticed the quick change of expression on her face. “I know you’ve never really accepted the role and I know I sort of _threw_ it at you, but you really did inspire all of this.” He gestured around the courtyard, towards the few Minutemen still patrolling the grounds. “People wouldn’t have started to believe in us again if you hadn’t helped everyone out and pointed them in our direction.”

“You just want people to sleep at night, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” For the world to be at peace with itself, though she couldn’t help but think she was hoping for the impossible.”

At her words a smile erupted over Preston’s face, as if he was relieved that she still shared their ideals.

“I’ve been looking forward to your visit for quite some time.” He admitted as he led her up the stairs that led to the pathway that ran along the wall.

“Finding the Institute seems to have become a full time job.” She sighed, bending down to marvel at the flora that was starting to grow.

“I suppose recent events don’t help.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as they reached the edge.

“That.” Her eye line followed the line his finger pointed out in front of them.

Like a blimp advertising for a local car wash. The Brotherhood had parked themselves on the other side of the river and she wondered if their Elder had done it intentionally.

“Did you forward the letter?” She asked, not taking her eyes away from the Brotherhood ship. If the Brotherhood had intel that the Minutemen had liberated Fort Independence than it was nothing _but_ intentional and she suddenly felt the desire to recheck all the defences.

“What letter?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

She swung her pack off her shoulder as she bent down to fish out the letter that hadn’t left her possession since she read it in Goodneighbor.

“I was hoping he sent it here,” she commented as she passed it to him, “and you forwarded it to Goodneighbor?”

She felt uneasy in the knowledge that this hadn’t been the case. She suddenly found herself worrying about the town even more.

_If he knows about it, and knows what sort of people live there…_

“There’s no fixed address on it,” he stated as he examined the envelope. “Just says, ’To the General of the Minutemen’, he could have given it to a caravan. Your intricate system of messengers probably did their jobs and got it to the one place people know where to contact you.”

“I find it hard to believe that their location is just a coincidence.” She admitted. Now she’d seen exactly where they were. “If they suddenly decide to go for a little target practice…”

“Then do what he’s asking,” Preston suggested, waving the letter at her. “Meet him as General of the Minutemen and show him that we’re not to be messed with.”

“Preston, please tell me your solution isn’t to threaten the entire Brotherhood of Steel?”

“Well, technically, they’re just the Eastern division of the Brotherhood, and no, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

He gestured for them to continue walking, she obliged and they walked the perimeter. 

“The Minutemen have come far in the past seven months, a lot of people are finally starting to sleep at night. People aren’t going to be too happy to find out the Brotherhood’s in town.”

“Are they _really_ that bad?” MacCready had been extremely colourful when describing the Brotherhood and its Elder. Though she suspected that childhood resentment was playing its role. Preston however prided himself on his neutrality.

“In my experience, the Brotherhood don’t care about people. Not since Elder Lyons. They’re only interested in weaponry and technology.”

“Well,” she looked back at the giant blimp in the sky. “That might explain why they’re eager to find the Institute.”

She looked down at the envelope as Preston passed her back the letter and her mind wandered back to the day she received it, the last time she and MacCready had been together. She flashed back to the nightmare of walking through Kellogg’s memories, the painful realisation that they were more similar than she thought. And then she remembered the fake vision of Shaun, the small blonde ten year old boy sitting on the floor of a dingy old apartment and she felt her eyes glaze over.

“We’re one step closer to finding them,” she told him whilst avoiding his gaze. She felt Preston shift next to her to look in her direction. “I don’t know if it puts us at an advantage or not, but we know they’ve learnt to teleport.”

“Teleport? Like, in and out of nowhere?” She nodded, still not looking at him. “Damn. No wonder we could never find them.”

She murmured in agreement. “I know what I need to do next…I just need to come up with a plan.”

A plan to avoid certain death - this sort of mission was her niche, she thrived on the adrenaline hit that came with it, but she doubt there would be any sort of high. Just her, and the voices in her head to keep her company - because she couldn’t risk taking anyone with her.

“I’m here if you need help, General.”

She sighed heavily, sucking up any tears that threatened to leave her.

“Actually, Preston,” she turned to look at him, and she felt her bottom lip quiver. “I do need your help.”

He looked at her hopeful.

“I want to make you my Lieutenant.” His eyes lit up. “Which, by definition, makes you my successor.”

Preston frowned. “General…”

“If something happens to me, you have to be the one leading the Minutemen.”

He was anyway, he just refused to believe how important he was.

“What’s going to happen to you?” he asked in genuine concern.

“I don’t know, Preston. But it involves going into the Glowing Sea.”

It was the first time she said it out loud and it didn’t make the prospect of having to do it any better. Whether she kept it to herself or told the whole world, she was going in there either way.

“The Glowing Sea? You think the Institute are hiding in there?”

“No,” she shook her head, “but I think someone is, and I think they could help us.”

“Well, whatever you decide to do, General, the Minutemen are behind you.”

“I know you are,” she smiled weakly.

Sensing her unease Preston braved pulling his General into a sideways hug and sighed in relief when she relaxed into his side, resting her head on his chest. They stood in silence and watched the Prydwen float in the distance.

“Guess that means, as your Lieutenant, I’ll be right next to you when you meet the Elder.” He offered in reassurance, she was tough but even he sensed meeting the entire Eastern division of the Brotherhood would overwhelm her. “And I’m assuming you’re going to pay him back for calling you a man.”

She laughed into his coat. 

“I’ve got a plan in mind.”

To go along with the dozen other plans going on inside her head. She wanted to stay longer, truly get to know everyone, but whilst the Railroad had no pressing matters to be dealing with, and she had no desire to be around Deacon any time soon (in case he _did_ remember), she knew there was one person there who did need her.

Glory and she eventually needed to go into Goodneighbor to give their final answer and she loathed the thought of going inside the town. She would have to apologise to Daisy for just running out (she heard the ghoul calling for her) without a word and she knew she also had to apologise to Hancock. 

For the umpteenth time she took a deep breath, put aside her personal feelings, and did what she needed to for those she cared for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I hate this chapter but it was necessary to get some annoying ideas out of the way that actually tie up a lot of unanswered questions, small ones mind but they've been bugging me. 
> 
> This chapter actually helps me like Piper though, so that's a good thing.
> 
> Thanks for reading and your continued support. You guys rock! x


	41. I'm Not Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper and Glory get the chance to bond. Another companion joins the adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've spent the past few days writing non stop to get this finished. Today marks one year since I finally braved posting this. I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me during all the changes I made and everyone who kudos/comments on this. Hell, I love you just for clicking to read it!
> 
> This is heavy on dialogue as Glory and Whisper spend most their time talking.
> 
> [I'm Not Alright - Shinedown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_BY0Li2RuQ)

_Yet do I fear thy nature. It is too full o' th' milk of human kindness. To catch the nearest way_

 

Glory hadn't expected Whisper to be so quiet. To be honest she didn't really know what to expect, she hadn't had the foresight to talk to Deacon and Whisper had dragged her out of HQ so fast that, when the thought did occur to her, she had no time to ask.

It wasn't as though anyone in the Railroad was particularly loud - apart from Tom when he made some groundbreaking discovery - but Glory had been waiting for the chance to truly bond with Whisper. Perhaps her quietness came from time spent travelling with Deacon, perhaps the spy's constant need to run his mouth had taught her to remain silent, Glory doubted Whisper got much of a word in when he was around.

Whisper seemed extra distracted, lost inside her own head and Glory doubted there was much she could say to help. There was probably tons of things eating away at her, Deacon _had_ to be one of those things. There was no way he couldn't be. But Glory was desperate for her to talk, about anything, because the longer the silence went on the longer she got stuck inside her own head.

Contacting Griswold had been hard, the decision to be there even harder, but Glory was starting to feel as though it would be impossible for her to walk through the gate.

"You okay?" came the first words out of Whisper's mouth since they left for Goodneighbor.

Glory sighed partially in relief because Whisper was finally speaking out loud.

"I guess...I mean, I think I am,” she sighed, frustrated at herself. "I'll probably feel different when we get there but I'm determined to see it through.”

"And I'll be right by your side, I promise.”

"You shouldn't worry about me, Curie will need you. I imagine the process will be huge for her.”

That was probably putting it lightly. Neither of them had a clue as to what would happen when they got there, Amari herself had said she had personally never done something like what they were asking before, but she seemed confident that it was possible. And, in reality, the worst thing that could happen was that Curie, much like G5, would crash and her body would be nothing but an empty shell.

Curie knew the implications, she'd been there when Amari had explained just how complicated the procedure would be. Curie knew the risks, knew that there was a huge chance it might not even work, but she was still willing to try, simply telling her that doing something was better than doing nothing, and at least she got the chance to see the surface.

Underneath her bandana a smile of reminiscence spread across her face, Curie's innocence was a rarity these days. The thought of it disappearing forever wiped the smile off her face.

"How about you?" Glory dared to ask.

Whisper shrugged. "I'm okay. I'll be happier when things calm down a little.”

Not that things ever would. It was always one thing after another. Even now she knew that as soon as the three of them were done in Goodneighbor she would have to continue her plan to meet the Brotherhood of Steel.

Spending the morning in Castle had been the right decision, even if she did feel a little guilty for leaving Glory for so long, but between Preston and herself they had come up with a rather solid plan for how to deal with Elder Maxson. There was just one more key component she had to finalise, two if she counted the corresponding letter in her pack.

"This is the Commonwealth, I doubt things will ever calm down," commented Glory, inadvertently aligning her thoughts with Whisper's. "At least until the Institute is gone.”

The synth had been waiting for a chance to bring up the subject, ever since the day Whisper had told her she was getting close. A lot had happened since then, Whisper had rarely been inside HQ, and Deacon had taken up a lot of her time. But the same could probably be said for Whisper. The fact that she ripped her out of HQ before she had a chance to tell anyone where they were going was a huge indication that Whisper needed time away from him. Deacon seemed to be doing alright (for Deacon anyway) so their parting had to have ended better than last time. The bruise on his eye was dying down, and he had no new injuries that Glory could see, so maybe Whisper had been honest with him.

She doubted it, those two were never honest with themselves, let alone with anyone else. Especially each other.

"That's a nice little seg-way you did there," complimented Whisper, and she really did mean it as a compliment because whilst everything would calm down once they were gone she knew the real reason as to why Glory had decided to mention them.

"What else do you expect when you tease a person like that?”

She had already proven to herself that talking about it out loud didn't change anything, and the Railroad did have the right to know, after all they've been looking for them for quite some time, and she certainly wasn't going to tell Desdemona, or Deacon any time soon. Maybe Glory was her best bet.

And given her closeness to Deacon, and the protective aura she had around him, Glory probably knew most of the story already.

"Did you want me to start at the beginning?”

"I guess that depends.”

"On what?”

"On just how much you wanna tell me. I'm not gonna force you to tell me anything you don't wanna, like I told you before, everyone in the Railroad is keeping something to themselves, but if you wanna unload some of that pent up shit you got goin' on, I'm here for you.”

Whisper gave a huge sigh of relief.

"I suppose it's about time I give you my version of events anyway, it might help put into context whatever you already know." She was very careful not to mention the certain Railroad agent by name.

She took a deep breath, readying herself to open up about her life. The only person that even came close to knowing everything was Hancock (MacCready a close second) but she knew she could tell Glory more than she could tell him. And she was right, there was information Deacon had given Glory that needed context in order to be understood completely.

"It started in the early years of the twenty-first century…"  
  
By the time the two agents reached the gates of Goodneighbor she had just begun to breech the subject of Nathaniel, and Glory was beginning to miss the silence. It wasn't that she wasn't glad to know, it was just a lot to find out in such a short space of time.

The synth doubted Deacon knew nothing about any of it, of course he knew Whisper had a husband (that much he had confirmed) but she had probably kept everything that happened before that locked up tight. If Deacon had known about her ridiculously dangerous past he probably wouldn't have followed her so much. The woman she was describing was nothing like the agent Glory knew, the woman in her past seemed out of touch with reality, devoid of any emotions. Now she could see why Deacon joked about Whisper being a synth so much. If gen. threes had existed back then there would be no doubt about it.

Glory's work rarely brought her to the town of Goodneighbor, which was a shame really. The people were far more entertaining than those milk-drinkers living in Diamond City.

"Shroud!" shouted someone and Glory watched as a ghoul in a green hat came running up to them. She looked over at Whisper, because he certainly wasn't speaking to her.

"Yeah..."she shook her head. "I'll get to that part at some point.”

"Kent." She greeted as he stopped in front of them, his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. "What can I do for you?”

"I fixed the coat." He announced in pride. "Completely clean, brand new and improved.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, not really wanting the conversation to expand further. 

"That's good to hear. Actually, we were just on our way to the Memory Den," she explained, pointing out the fact she wasn't alone.

Kent's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, you got it. We'll, uh, we'll talk later.”

And with that he ran off in the other direction, she shook her head as she watched him.

"Wow, subtlety is lost on him, huh?”

She laughed lightly at Glory's comment.

"Subtlety is lost on almost everyone here. Goodneighbor doesn't do well with beating around the bush.”

"I never really get the chance to hang out here, I'm usually just shootin’ down to talk to Amari and running back out again." She already knew Whisper spent most of her time here, she probably knew everyone by name.

"Goodneighbor gets a bad reputation just because it's full of ghouls, and ghouls get a bad reputation because of people like Mayor McDonough, and ferals." She added as an afterthought. She looked towards Daisy's shop and saw the ghoul waving at her. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to do something whilst we're here.”

Glory shrugged, not wanting to either prolong or rush what they had to do. She walked towards Daisy's shop, removing her bandana as she got closer.

"Sunshine!" greeted Daisy and she smiled awkwardly at her nickname. It was her own fault really, considering she refused to tell anyone her real name. Terms of endearment and codenames were just fine.

"Daisy." Before she could stop her the ghoul was going around the counter to embrace the young girl in a tight hug.

She pulled away and, keeping her hands on her shoulders, she gave Sunshine a once over. It was always nice when she came into town on her own two feet, and with no visible injuries no less! Gods be praised.

"I really wished you would stop wearing those infernal sunglasses.”

Daisy wouldn't be the mother figure she saw her as if she didn't berate her in some small way.

"And there I was thinking you'd tell me it's rude to wear a hat indoors." She joked.

"Oh, honey, if I thought that would make you take it off, believe me I would have. Now, what can I do for my favourite girl today?”

"I might be asking for the impossible." She flicked her pack off her shoulder and held it up with one hand as the other delved inside to pull out the sketches she had made earlier back at Castle.

Daisy pulled a face of intrigue as she looked over the designs, whoever drew them was extremely talented. It was probably her, but she would never admit it. One design was a floor length dark blue dress with a thigh high split and a diamond shaped cut in the chest. The other was a shorter purple dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves.

"Have you got a preference?" she asked, already knowing which was her favourite of the two.

"The blue one, I was hoping for sequins...if that's possible.”

Daisy thought for a moment, it would take a while, and she would need to call in a favour or two but…

"It's possible. I can't promise an end date though.”

"That's okay, I've still got time. Speaking of which, I need to drop this off with you.”

She intentionally handed the envelope over upside down, though she knew Daisy would look.

She watched the shock tear through the old ghoul.

"W-wha...Why on earth are you contacting _them_?”

"Because I'm just as worried about the town as everyone else. I'm writing to them as the General of the Minutemen. I've put a lot of time and effort into this place, I'm not going to just let them take over." She repeated exactly what she told Hancock.

Glory was confused, though not a complete idiot so she had a pretty good idea what the women were talking about. There was only one organisation Whisper would feel the need to write to, if she felt any desire to talk to Dez she would just walk up to the woman.

“We should probably get going.” suggested Whisper, knowing if they didn’t move now Daisy would inevitably end up sharing more than she was comfortable with.

Glory was all but dragged out of the small shop and taken back onto street. Every person, be it ghoul or smooth skin, they walked past called Whisper by the same nickname that sweet old ghoul used. She politely acknowledged them all, all the while her feet were making their way towards the Memory Den, her hands dragging Glory along with them.

“The straight to the point nature of this town backfires when you’re the only thing they want to talk about.” she informed Glory when they pushed through the doors to the Memory Den.

Kent was safely stored away in his room, the door forever closed (to which she was grateful), Irma was lounged across the cheslong as per usual. She hadn’t realised the woman was speaking to someone until she saw the Miss Nanny float down around her.

“So, that’s Curie, huh?” asked Glory as she spotted the Miss Nanny.

“Yeah…” she let her voice trail off, not really knowing what to say. A small smile crept over her face as she watched the robot float around, completely unaware of Irma’s irritated expression..

In the back of her head she couldn’t help but think a lot of people in Goodneighbor would be glad to be rid of her. It wasn’t anything personal, Curie was just curious about almost everything and the people of Goodneighbor were not known for answering questions. And she could only imagine the sort of questions Curie had come out with.

The walk down to Amari’s office was quiet, with Glory to her left and Curie to her right she stayed in the middle, acting as a buffer. Curie was too innocent to be able to read a situation clearly and so to avoid any awkward comments she kept the Miss Nanny busy with her own observations. She apologised for leaving her alone for so long, to which Curie barely noticed how much time had passed. Curie had allegedly spent her time helping Amari with research, though she had to wonder just how much she had _actually_ helped.

For the first time since meeting the woman, Amari looked nervous, which didn’t exactly sit well with her. If the woman responsible for the procedure was worried, how on earth were the rest of them expected to feel? Though, looking at the other two, she seemed to be the only one worrying completely and she wasn’t the one about to have her brain switched out. For once.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” commented Glory as she stared at the empty shell she had once called a friend.

“Glory, she wanted new memories. She knew her personality would be all but erased. These are just different memories. Perhaps, better ones.” weighed in Amari. The doctor knew what everyone was expecting - nothing short of a miracle - and whilst one of them was about to get a new lease on life, another was about to lose someone close to them entirely. Even if G5 had been brain dead for a long time.

The longer Glory spent staring at her friend the more she began to think about all the memories she and G5 shared. The first day the Railroad found her. Her smile. Her laugh. Glory would never see or hear her ever again. 

“Are you _sure_ about this, Glory?” She asked, grabbing the synth’s hand and squeezing it. Glory gave a nod that was barely there but didn’t move. Amari was looking at both of them expectantly, it was obvious that Glory wouldn’t be able to speak. “Just do it, and do it now.” _Before anyone changes their mind._ And that included herself.

“Curie,” Amari turned her attention to the Miss Nanny. “Let’s begin.”

“Oui.” She floated to wherever Amari needed her to be.

She watched as Amari attached a number of wires to Curie, linking them to another machine that, in turn, was linked to G5. She gave Glory’s hand one final squeeze and the synth almost crushed all the bones in her hand when she reciprocated. 

“Curie, terminate all non-essential operations”

“Affirmative.”

“Alright.” Amari began tapping away at the terminal, doing who knows what. “Connections complete. I have access to your friend’s memories. G5’s already been prepped - so this shouldn’t take…long. Yes, there.”

Her eyes widened and her heart dropped in her chest as the Miss Nanny crumbled to the ground, completely devoid of life. It wasn’t until she heard a desperate intake of breath that relief washed over her.

_She’s okay._ Internally she sighed.

“I…I…my chest. What is happening?”

“Just breathe. It’s an autonomic function. Just let your body do what it must.

The pod lifted and she and Glory rushed to help Curie step out, both of them doubting she knew how to use her legs if she was finding breathing complicated.

“I…I feel…I feel so strange.” She was rasping, on the brink of panicking.

She couldn’t even begin to empathise, she was used to waking up and becoming a different person but this wasn’t anything like that. Curie had literally been ripped out of her body and shoved in another.

She placed her hands on Curie’s brand new face, marvelling at the soft skin that felt too real not to be, and forced Curie to look her in the eye.

“Listen to me.” She began sternly. Curie’s breathing immediately calmed. “Can you hear me?”

Curie nodded between her hands.

“What is your name?” asked Amari behind them.

“My designation is Contagions Vulnerability Robotic Infirmary Engineer.” She replied, keeping her eyes locked on the woman who made it all possible.

She smiled in relief. “Otherwise known as?”

“Curie.”

She took her hands off Curie’s face and wrapped them around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug.

“You had me worried there.”

“Do not concern yourself. I feel better now.”

“Good.”

“It’s very good,” corrected Amari. She couldn’t help but see the sight through the eyes of a scientist. What they had just accomplished was a great leap in science, the Institute had clearly managed to program human memories into a synthetic being, but this was beyond that. Amari couldn’t wait to have two minutes to herself to document her findings. “Now, let’s test some cognitive functions. What is 1+2?”

“Three.” Curie replied almost immediately.

“If I threw a baseball at your head, what would you do?”

“Uh…”

By her guess, Curie was struggling with the idea of why someone would throw something at her in the first place.

“Move.”

“Think of a strong memory. The first that comes to mind. Tell me about it.”

“I was the last living scientist in my section of Vault 81, I thought for sure I would be there until I rusted. When I least expected it a masked woman came into the lab and asked me for a cure to the Mole Rat virus.”

She shifted uncomfortably, hardly wanting the story to be retold, she hadn’t expected this to be the first memory that came to mind.

“She was clearly dying, I offered to give her the serum but she refused. She made me promise that it only be used on the boy.”

She would have, if it hadn’t been for Deacon’s stubbornness.

“She is nice to me, kind and she has given me…so much.” Curie emphasised. “Oh, my insides feel peculiar. What is that?”

She knew what Curie was going through, experiencing emotions for the first time was extremely overwhelming, but it helped to have someone to help process everything.

“You tell me.”

She couldn’t tell the synth what she was feeling towards her, Curie had to work that one out for herself.

“I…I do not know. I look at you, my chest feels tight and I am pleased to see you.”

“Sounds like love…” observed Amari.

Her mouth stretched at the word. It wasn’t what Curie was feeling - you can’t love someone you don’t know anything about - she was just confusing her gratitude for love.

“You seem absolutely fine.” commented Amari before turning her attention to the other woman. “The operation appears successful, but I think it will take a lot of adjustment for her.”

It was going to take a lot of adjusting for a lot of people.

“She may need your help to make the transition.”

She closed her eyes in guilt, she would never say it out loud but she didn’t have the time to help Curie, it would be just another distraction away from her most pressing matter.

Whilst Curie turned to thank Doctor Amari she turned to address Glory, only to find the agent had disappeared from the room. Instinctively she looked around the lab and her eyes landed on a door in the corridor that was suddenly open slightly.

She told Curie to wait a moment before walking towards the door. The quiet sobbing hit her before she stepped through and once again she felt her heart fall into her stomach when her sight landed on the tough synth sitting on the floor, her knees up to her chin and her arms crossed over them as she cried into the crevice her body created.

She didn’t broadcast her presence, though she suspected Glory knew she was there, she simply sat down next to the agent and put a comforting arm around her neck as she continued to sob. She sat there and waited for Glory to calm down, when she did she gave one final sniff before looking up and wiping her face. She pressed her head against Whisper’s and sighed.

“I did what I said, I saw it all the way through.”

She responded by squeezing Glory’s shoulder. There were a ton of words she could string together in order to tell Glory what she wanted to hear but that skill was left to marks, Glory wasn’t a mark, she was a friend and had every right to grieve as she saw fit.

“I was fine, right up until she started talkin’, I dunno why but I was expecting to hear G5, you know? It was like, for a split second, I thought it was actually her. Hearing Curie’s voice just reminded me that, deep down, we’re just walking, breathing tin cans.”

Whisper tutted and pulled away from her.

“Her sacrifice gave someone else the gift of life. No human being that I’ve seen lately has done that.”

“Except you?” commented Glory and she heard Whisper sigh underneath her bandana. “So, tell me, honestly, how many times have you actually been on Minutemen business?”

Asking Whisper to be honest may have been asking for a miracle (another one) but her openness about her past, her willingness to talk about it, made Glory think (hope) that she was done lying; to her at least.

“I’m never _off_ Minutemen business,” she replied and Glory shot her a look. “Once.”

“This morning?” Whisper nodded. “How’s the organisation doing? Better than the Railroad, I imagine.”

Glory began to stand up, now finished sitting on the floor and feeling sorry for herself. She suspected that Curie would need help dealing with the process completely, and the human race 

“They’re- _We’re_ flourishing. Most of settlements have aligned themselves with us, there are safe routes mapped out all over the Commonwealth,” her hand went to the back of her neck, she cursed herself and tore her hand away. “And we’re working on a plan to deal with the Brotherhood.”

Glory’s eyes widened in shock. “Not even Dez has mentioned them.”

“I know…” That was a bone of contention if there ever was one. “That’s what the letter was. A while ago I received a letter from their Elder. He wants to meet me.”

Or at least the man he thought was running the Minutemen. 

Glory choked on air, not even thinking such a thing was a possibility for her. “What are you going to do?” she asked, already sure of Whisper’s answer.

“I’ve agreed. My Lieutenant and I spent the morning coming up with a plan, I’m going _inside_ Brotherhood territory - I need to gain the upper hand as quickly as possible.”

“How do you expect to do that?”

“Well, I already somewhat have that as their Elder is under the impression I’m a man. I just need to find a way to make a dramatic, yet tasteful, entrance.”

“You mean like they did?”

“Exactly.” They walked back into Amari’s office. Curie was waiting, delighted and eager to use her legs properly for the first time.

“We are leaving, yes?” She asked.

“There is one more thing. Amari?” The doctor turned around. “I need to ask you something.”

Immediately the doctor rolled her eyes. “If it’s for another brain scan the answer is no, I keep telling you you’re perfectly fine.”

“It’s not about that,” she said more abruptly than she had intended. Curie fretted about her enough of the time, Glory didn’t know the whole story yet and to reveal that she had had more than one brain scan showed weakness. No one could see her as weak. Though, plenty of people had definitely seen her at her worse. “It’s in connection to what happened the last time I was here.” She did her best to keep it vague.

“You have figured out your next move?” Though the doctor suspected she had worked it out a long time ago, the second she stepped out of the memory lounger would be Amari’s guess.

“Yes, and I need to know if there’s a limit on the amount of Rad-X one can take.”

“Well,” she thought hard for a moment, it was a question she’d never been asked before. “Whilst no cases have been confirmed to make me _believe_ it is dangerous, it’s not advised to used anything in excess. Just how much radiation do you plan on coming into contact with?”

“Probably more than most have experienced.”

“It would be far more prudent to wear a hazmat suit, though if it is truly a severe amount a suit of power armour is strongly recommended.”

Amari was no fool, whilst the entire Commonwealth may be plagued with levels of radiation, there was only one place the young woman could be going if she felt concerned enough to seek advice. The doctor did not say the words out loud, for hearing it confirmed might knock her back a step or two, but gave her the only possible solutions she could think of.

She groaned, not subtly either. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

That wasn’t happening, no way on this earth was she stepping into one of those again, she would rather risk overdosing on Rad-X.

“I’m not sure what else to suggest,” besides not going, “short of turning yourself into a ghoul.”

In one second she went from wondering if such a thing were possible to realising it was when an old memory of Eddie Winter entered her head.

Their deal involved her helping Valentine once she found the Institute, but that was before she knew about the Glowing Sea. She wanted to help him before going, just in case she never got the chance to make good on her promise.

“Thanks, Amari.” She turned to look at Curie’s brand new face, wondering if she would ever get used to it. “Curie? Are you ready?”

“Oui.” she smiled and followed the two women up the stairs. 

Her saviour looked no different, her vitals seemed fine (Curie was relieved to find that capability had not been lost during the transfer) but the other woman, dressed in heavy armour the likes of which Curie had never seen before, even with her time in Diamond City where she had seen dozens of people come and go, no one had worn anything quite like that. She seemed troubled also, Curie could sense a negative feeling the woman had towards her.

She waved goodbye to the beautiful blonde woman in the feathered red dress, Curie would miss the place. Goodneighbor was very interesting, and full of some colourful people.

“Where are we going?” asked Curie once they were back on the street. Her eyes closed uncontrollably, every time she opened them they shut again and she quickly became frustrated.

She felt something soft touch her face and risked opening her eyes, only to find they were able to stay open of their own volition.

“The sun is in your eyes,” she told her. “Just put your hand on your face like this,” she performed the gesture for her and smiled when Curie was able to do it.

She turned to look at an awkward Glory. She knew where she wanted to take Curie, where she would be safest and flourish.

“I’m going to take you back to Sanctuary, if that’s okay with you?”

“I would prefer to stay with you, but I believe you know what is best for me.”

In this particular instance she did. Curie would need a lot of attention and time to adjust and right now she wasn’t able to give her either.

“You don’t have to come, but I wish you would.” She told a silent Glory. She pulled her to one side, leaving Curie to stand and marvel at herself.

She wouldn’t be offended if Glory decided to go back to HQ, Curie would be confused but she would no doubt explain it to her on the way back.

“I need your help,” she admitted. “Out of the two of us you’re far more qualified to understand what she’s going through.”

“I…I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t bother me…but you’re right. With no one but a bunch of humans around to help her who knows how she’ll turn out,” Glory joked. “I worked hard on G5 to stop her seeing herself as just a synth, this aint quite the same but I guess I could give it a shot.”

And travelling with Whisper had been a dream of Glory’s every since she met the woman.

“Just…go easy on her. She needs to know how most people see synths,” if it were left to Curie she would go around telling _everyone_ what she was. “But don’t scare her. She won’t have anyone in Sanctuary to worry about, its full of people who have nowhere else to go. There’s probably a synth mixed in there already, whether or not they know that’s what they are, I’ve no idea but who cares? I mean, _really?_ Sanctuary is proof that all sorts of people can live together and thrive.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“I’m just really protective of everyone, I suppose. You of all people must know what that’s like.”

“I guess I am protective of every synth we find. As much as I know Dez and the rest of them care, they just don’t get it. I’ve _always_ known what I am. Coming to terms with the fact that everything you know is a lie…it takes a while to get used to. Some of them never get used to it. Like Amari said, G5 knew the risks and she took them just so she could forget who she was.” She looked over at the woman who now occupied her friend’s body. “Sure, I supported her decision, but I never agreed with it.”

Wanting to give Curie the opportunity to get used to the basics of being human (or at least as close as she was going to get) she decided the three of them would take one of the many Minutemen safe routes to Sanctuary. The last thing she wanted was for Curie to suddenly find herself under gunfire, she was so sweet and innocent that she would no doubt try to reason with everyone.

Glory had been hoping for action, or at least a distraction. Looking at Curie was hard, talking to her even harder but she persevered, knowing that Whisper was right. Curie needed help from someone who could actually relate, and whilst Glory never had to worry about the fundamentals of being human, she knew what it was like living as a synth in the Commonwealth.

The ex-Miss Nanny seemed determined to fill every available moment with some sort of observation or inquiry. No wonder Whisper was desperate for her help, Glory couldn’t imagine dealing with her on her own, it was tiring enough between the two of them.

Glory was relieved when Curie turned her attention to Whisper, throwing a volley of questions at her.

“Do they help you somehow?” she asked, pointing at the garb that covered her face.

“Yes, they help prevent people knowing what I look like,” she sighed, desperate to hide her annoyance. If she thought Curie in her normal body asked a lot of questions, it was nothing in comparison to Curie in a synth body. She was exhausted, she expected Glory was too and they had only just passed the halfway point to Sanctuary.

“But I know what you look like.” Curie stated and she saw Glory stop dead on her feet.

“It wasn’t exactly a priority when I thought I was dying,” she answered, glancing over at Glory as well. And it hadn’t been her decision at all, Dr Forsythe needed to take them off in order to examine her and she was too weak at the time to even try and stop him.

Two hours and thousands of questions later she finally snapped.

“Curie, remember what I told you when we were travelling to Goodneighbor? If you keep asking all these questions, there’ll be no surprises for you. Part of being human is figuring out things for yourself. You’re asking for other people’s opinion when you should be concentrating on your own, give yourself time and you’ll have an opinion on almost everything.”

Opinions she would no doubt share with everyone she came across.

They fell into a comfortable silence, giving Glory the opportunity to take in their surroundings. It had to be the quietest road she had ever travelled on, and the cleanest too. She never said a word but it was obvious they were walking many of the routes the Minutemen had carved into the Commonwealth, though they hadn’t come across a single member of the organisation. Or anyone else for that matter.

A small part of her was disappointed, she had been hoping to see Whisper in action, having only seen what she was like in the field when they accidentally met outside the Malden Center, but she understood why. Their third wheel was far less experienced than their last one.

Her thoughts wandered to the agent in question and she hoped he was okay. Even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t let anyone know but he couldn’t be fairing well, with her and Whisper on the road the only person he had to keep him company was Tom. She laughed at the image of Tom experimenting on Deacon.

Whisper hadn’t mentioned him once, completely intentional she was sure and Glory decided to play along and not speak about him. The synth looked over at her, wondering what she was thinking. Glory had only started to hear her story, knew there was far more to be told, and couldn’t help but admire her. Not many people could survive what she had been through, what she was still going through, and find the strength to get up in the morning, and that was those who had lived in the Commonwealth their entire lives.

It still amazed her how open and honest she had been about it all, it had taken her months to tell Deacon the truth, and she wasn’t even telling him, he just happened to be in the room.

“Not long now,” she informed the other two as Red Rocket came into view.

Glory had never travelled this far North, never needed to as not much occurred outside of the financial district, and so when she spotted the large gate across the bridge her mouth uncontrollably fell open, and not for the first time she wondered if aligning herself with the Railroad had been the right decision. It wasn’t as though she hated the organisation, she loved it, as well as the people but they had spent most of their time sitting around doing nothing. If Dez took a leaf out of Whisper’s book, the Railroad would have more safe houses than the Minutemen had settlements, and quite frankly Glory found it embarrassing that Dez had asked for Whisper’s help securing their last one, even more so when Deacon told her that Dez’s chosen location had been cleared by the Minutemen months prior to Dez discovering it.

The Railroad needed as many agents and allies as it could get and yet Dez seemed as though she was intentionally giving Whisper every reason to walk away. Perhaps even the boss knew she was too good to be considered just an agent.

Marcy groaned as they walked past, mumbling something about having more mouths to feed and it being the last thing they needed. Just like always, she let it go, Marcy was still grieving and could take as much time as she needed, besides, everyone had learnt to ignore her already.

“I gotta say, this place is incredible.” Glory was putting it lightly, she didn’t even know the word that would describe the settlement. Most places were just set up so people had enough food and water and a bed to fall into at night; this place felt more like a home.

“Thanks, but personally I had very little to do with it. I just gave people the motivation, sums up my role as General, really.” She looked down the path that led to the Vault and found her feet unable to move. As per usual her heart was controlling her actions, and this time her brain read the message loud and clear.

“Mademoiselle?” Curie noticed her vitals suddenly go sporadic.

“Have you ever gone down this path, Curie?” she wondered, her mind supplying her with a vision of her and Nathaniel - Shaun in his arms - running for their lives.

“No, I have asked but everyone warns me away.”

She was moderately relieved to hear Curie’s response.

“That’s because there’s a vault up there.”

“A vault?” Curie asked in surprise. “Like the one I was in?”

“Kind of, but Vault 111 had a different kind of experiment.”

She glanced over at Glory, who looked guiltily down at the ground for a moment before maintaining the straight expression she was famous for. She wasn’t even remotely surprised that she knew, Glory was Deacon’s best friend.

Listening to her heart and ignoring the protests of her brain, she led Curie down the path, not willing to carry on the conversation this deep inside Sanctuary. Not until they were on the other side of the bridge did she speak again.

“I came from this vault,” she took a gentle hold of Curie’s hand. Glory was right, there _was_ something she could say to Curie that might help. “I went inside with everyone I knew.” At least everyone Nora knew. “I woke up one day…and I was the only one left, everyone else was dead.” _And one of us was kidnapped._

It was the third time in her life she walked the path, this time doing it of her own accord. Personal feelings aside, she knew it would help.

“The view…” gasped Curie when they were stood on top of the vault. “It is…” she tried to search for the perfect word. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” agreed Glory. “In an apocalyptic sort of way.”

Whisper breathed a laugh at the joke.

“Just the opportunity to know what it looked like before…”

She felt Glory’s eyes on her but ignored them. As much as it might help she wasn’t about to admit the truth to Curie. Mainly because she couldn’t handle the million questions that Curie would inevitably start asking.

“Well, the people here will help you deal with the here and now, and that’s what’s important. How are you feeling, Curie?” She almost felt guilty for not asking sooner.

“It is overwhelming, but I do not regret it. My only regret is that someone had to die for it to happen.”

She didn’t need to look at Glory to know how sad she suddenly was. She silently gestured to the agent to give her a moment with Curie and she began walking the synth back the way they came.

“Your friend, she seems...sad.” observed Curie.

“That’s because she is,” she sighed, feeling sorry for Glory. Just like her, the synth had sacrificed her own personal feelings in order to help someone else. “I’m not going to lie to you, your new body once belonged to a friend of hers. She’s the reason we were able to do what we did, because she allowed us to use it.”

“I must thank her!” She stopped Curie before she attempted to run back up the pathway.

“And you will, but we need to give her time.” Glory could take all the time in the world as far as she was concerned. “Let me talk to her. Go, go and show off your new look to everyone.” She removed her bandana to give her a fake smile. It was enough to give Curie the encouragement to travel on her own, even if it was only a few feet.

By the time she returned to Glory, the synth was sat on the entrance to Vault 111, a lit cigarette smoking between her fingers. She sat down next to her and Glory was quick to offer her her cigarette packet. Without thinking she took one, staring at it and wondering about the last time she had smoked. It had been a few centuries at least, and she smiled at her own dark joke.

Evidently the ability to smoke had not diminished with time as she placed the lit cigarette between her lips and took a smooth inhale. The taste was harsher than she remembered, though the tobacco inside had had over two-hundred years to dry out.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d take one,” admitted Glory. Deacon had told her he hadn’t seen her smoke once, he knew she used chems but had never seen her take them. Probably for the best really, it definitely saved Whisper from the inevitable lecture Deacon had prepared.

“Well,” she looked at the cigarette, flicking the tiny morsel of ash onto the ground. “I’d prefer a hit of Jet but at this point I don’t care.”

Glory was looking out into the distance, her mind who knows where.

“Thank you,” she breathed, too looking out at the horizon.

“It's just a cigarette,” shrugged Glory as she stubbed out her own. “It’s no big deal.”

“Of course it is,” she murmured, knowing neither of them would mention what she was actually thanking the synth for. “How are you?”

“Tired.” she admitted, running a hand through her white hair. “And wondering how long I can get away with being out of HQ.”

“In my experience, as long as you show your face every now and then you can stay away as long as you want.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Whisper nodded. “When you were asking Amari about radiation, was that in connection to you finding the Institute?” She nodded again. “So, what’s your plan?”

“I’ve no idea,” she admitted, it was still a huge work in progress. “Can I ask _you_ a question?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it.

“Do you think I should tell Desdemona?”

“That’s up to you, but I think you should tell her as much as you plan on telling the Brotherhood.” She groaned at the mention of the organisation. Whilst the Railroad and the Brotherhood weren’t actively opposed to each other, their views and vision for the world differed extremely.

“That means nothing then.” Glory looked at her with scrutinising disbelief. “I’m not going there to discuss the Institute, no matter how much their Elder may want to. The Minutemen are the only organisation not jumping at the bit to find them, it’s _me._ For reasons that outweigh and outlive anyone else’s.”

Glory looked at her expectantly and she continued where her story had left off. She’d barely admitted out loud to anyone that she was looking for a boy whom wasn't her son. Mama Murphy’s vision had caused the elderly woman to believe he was her blood and she never corrected anyone who wished her luck in her search for ‘her son’. 

“I always knew he was a bad person, I have no illusions about what he did to become a success but what he did, it was just plain evil.” she scrunched her nose up at the memory. “I will always regret not being the one to kill him.”

She then went on to describe the moment the first bomb hit. How they ran to the vault, were ushered inside and her last memory of the twenty-first century being a mushroom cloud of fire on the horizon. Then the malfunctioning of the vault, that wasn’t a malfunction at all, how she watched Kellogg shoot Nathaniel and take Shaun.

“He walked right up to me.” she said through gritted teeth. “He didn't even care that I was awake, that I’d just witnessed the whole thing. He called me the back up and that was it. I woke up again, everyone else had suffocated due to whatever it was they did to the vault, and I went back onto the surface to find everything I’d ever know gone.” 

At the mention of exiting the vault she stood up. Glory raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You know what I’m going to show you.” She stated and made her way to the exact place Deacon had been stood.

Even Glory’s eyes bulged at the marking carved into the tree, she knew about it, Deacon admitted that he’d done it, but she’d been assuming it was small and discreet, not for one second did she think it would take up most of the tree. Deacon really had put all of his eggs in one basket, before even knowing anything about her. There was being risky, and then there was being just plain stupid.

“Does he normally follow people around?” she had to ask, finally bringing up the one person the two of them had so far avoided mentioning.

Glory felt uneasy at the question. It wasn’t Deacon’s fault, he just couldn’t help himself, like he had some sort of mental illness that forced him to fixate on one thing excessively. Not that Whisper would find that answer encouraging.

“I guess he saw something in you.” Something Glory saw in her, now she knew about Whisper’s past.

“It’s hard to think it was a coincidence.”

“It was,” she responded instantly, Deacon had told her as much. “Almost everyone in the Railroad knows about the story of Kellogg infiltrating Vault 111.” She heard Whisper tut, no doubt feeling as though she was the last one to find out. “His problem is that he’s too curious for his own good.”

“Hmm.” she nodded. It wasn’t his only problem.

For a split second Glory considered asking about the status of their friendship, ultimately deciding not to waste her breath because Whisper was still struggling to grasp was sort of person the man was. If she only knew everything he had done for the Railroad, how he was practically responsible for getting them were they were now, maybe she’d be able to think more clearly.

The conversation topic ended as quickly as it started, neither of them wanting to talk about Deacon. Internally they were both happy for the chance to bond with another female for a change.

When they went back down into the settlement a large crowd had gathered, no doubt gawking at what she correctly assumed was Curie in her brand new body. Nearly all were surprised that it had worked (both agents were right there with them), already knowing about her wish to become human. She was glad there wasn’t an hostility or negativity towards her, like she said, Sanctuary was living proof that all kinds of people could live together in peace. If she came to trust him enough, she considered inviting Elder Maxson to see it one day, just to cement her point in.

The two agents slowly made their way back towards the gate, leaving the settlers to it. Whisper had been right, Curie would be just fine in Sanctuary. Glory decided that if she ever stayed alive long enough to retire, it was the sort of place she would want to live.

She looked into each one of the house they walked past, smiling to herself as she saw people moving around inside. It was nice for the place to be filled with good people for a change. She glanced into one particular window and saw Mama Murphy sat in her signature chair, looking better than she’d ever seen her. The older lady waved at her.

MacCready had promised her that the woman had stopped using chems, that her house was checked regularly. But she knew there were more places than her best friend would think to look.

She pulled Glory in the direction of the house.

“Good to see you again, kid,” commented Mama Murphy as the two women walked into the living room.

“It’s been a long time.” She and Glory sat down on the couch, making sure she sat on the side closer to Mama Murphy .

“For you maybe,” she chuckled. She’d seen quite a lot of the woman lately, evidently she’s been keeping herself busy.

“You promised me.” She raised her eyebrow.

“And I’ve kept my word, kid. The Sight is stronger than I thought.”

“So, if I check this place over I won’t find anything?” she asked, ignoring Glory’s confused face.

“Not a thing,” Mama Murphy replied with a straight face.

She couldn’t see any obvious signs of lying, no clear signs of chem use so she decided to take Mama Murphy at her word.

“You know all that can’t protect you forever,” commented the older woman, pointing at the items covering her body. Mama Murphy reached for her hand, her grip tightening a her eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

_Oh, shit._

“You're walking into a sea, but it's not water you're afraid of drownin' in. It's something... invisible... but... radiant... It burns everything in it, but... no... I can feel them. There's people. Calling out to something. Chanting. They can show you the way... but... they're so hard to read... Be careful around them, kid.”

“That was awkward.” She stated as she closed the front door behind them. It was the last thing she’d expecting, or wanting, and she just glad it had been in front of Glory and not Deacon.

“Are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was?”

“The Sight. Mama Murphy had the ability to see into the future, though I thought it had stopped when I told her to give up chems. Apparently not, unless she’s a better liar than me.” And that was doubtful.

She quickly picked up her pace, suddenly desperate to get out of Sanctuary.

“No, I meant what the fuck was she talking about? A ‘radiant’ sea? And you asking about radiation? I’m a fucking spy for a reason.”

“Glory…”

“Nu-uh, don’t ‘Glory’ me, you can’t keep shit like that to yourself!”

“I was going to tell more people when I came up with a plan,” she tried to remain calm, refusing to match Glory’s loud, angry tone.

“Didn’t you think it was something you might need help with?” Whisper shook her head. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because no one can help me.”

“Oh, that’s complete bullshit. Tom’s a fucking genius, he could easily build something to resist radiation. Carrington may be a complete asshole but he could have given you the same advice as Amari. There are plenty of people who can help you.”

“Not without getting hurt.” She admitted, her body stopped in defeat.

She sat down on the road barrier and ripped off her bandana and hat, sighing heavily. Less than a second later Glory was sat down next to her, ignoring the hair that was whiter than hers.

“Think about it, where I need to go.” Her gaze switched between the ground and the rocket of the truck stop less than twenty feet away, she couldn’t look Glory in the eye. Even if the synth couldn’t see hers. “Given what its made from, how can I ask anyone to come with me, or help me? Most people ‘care’ about me too much to _really_ help. You saw what Daisy was like, and that was just a _letter_ _to the Brotherhood_.”

“What has the Glowing Sea got to do with the Institute?”

“I’ve reason to believe an Institute scientist is hiding out there.”

“How?”

She skipped ahead in her story, explaining what happened in Goodneighbor with Valentine, knowing that Deacon had no doubt told her everything else.

“I don’t think anyone else heard it, or understood it.” Because someone would have said something if they did. She wiped her cheek before the tear reached beyond the rim of her sunglasses at the memory of a synthetic ten year old Shaun.

Glory knew the story so she knew how long ago everything happened, knew that Whisper was following a trail sixty years old but she seemed determine to see it through, regardless of what she found at the end.

“You really think it was a synth?” Glory had to ask.

Whisper nodded. “Sure, I could have believed it happened fifty years ago. Kellogg hadn’t changed in all that time. But I heard Travis on the radio,” as quiet and nervous as the first time she heard him. “In a split second I asked myself why, why would they go to all that trouble? Why would they make sure the mercenary who took him was the other person I saw? Why would they allow a Courser to enter into his apartment?Why bother to have a conversation about a rogue scientist? Why relay Kellogg’s next mission through a third party?”

Holy crap, that was a lot of questions to throw at yourself at once. She was worse than Deacon.

“The Institute used Kellogg to get to me. As far as they’re concerned I’m a mother trying to find her son, why wouldn’t I track down every possible clue? They knew I was going to kill Kellogg, I think he knew it too, in the end. Every single detail was planned.” It was almost admirable. “And there’s only one person that would go to that much trouble.”

Glory looked at her, moderately confused.

“Only one person would want me to find the man who ‘ripped apart my family’ and who would want me to find out how to get into the Institute. Shaun’s alive, and he’s leading me to him.”

And she didn’t like it one bit.

“Sixty years is a lot of time to spend conditioning someone, and the Institute was all he ever knew.” And if it had been up to Nathaniel it would have been a life of crime.

“What are you saying?” Glory gulped.

“If what I say is true, and he _is_ doing all this, then he’s in a position of power to be able to do so.”

“You think he’s, what, in charge or something?”

“I think I have to entertain the possibility.” She closed her eyes and fell into silence. Mentally she was exhausted, she’d spent almost the entire day being honest and it was tiring. One by one she had peeled apart the layers of herself, all the women she’d been over the years and revealed more about herself than ever before. “You’re the only one who knows the whole story.” It was true, Glory’s knowledge surpassed Hancock’s. “Both versions,” she added with a nudge to Glory’s side.

“He would have taken it to his grave,” had it not been for his crippling anxiety.

“I know.” She removed her sunglasses and blinked, revealing her last secret, because she might as well. 

Glory’s eyes bulged uncontrollably. No wonder Deacon was obsessed with her.

The women stared at each other, reflecting on everything they’d learnt about one another over the past day. They’d reached a level of honesty and understanding that Glory had never managed to obtain with anyone else.

Without Curie they were able to take a more dangerous route back to HQ, final able to ignore their problems and kill everything that tried to kill them first. They went down one particular path that MacCready usually made her avoid, Glory didn’t have a sense of fear like he did, though she suspected his cautiousness was what had kept him alive all these years.

They both looked at her Pip-Boy when a faint transmission came through.

“Help! Or mayday! Or whatever it is one says in a radio. My name is Rex Goodman. I'm being held prisoner at the top of Trinity Tower. I think the super mutants plan on eating me soon. I'm setting this to repeat. Oh, shit! Gotta sign off, one of the super mutants is coming!”

She looked at Glory, who shrugged her minigun off her back and smiled.

“Let’s go rescue us a civilian.”

Whisper nodded and pulled both pistols out of their respective holsters.

By the time they reached the top of Trinity Tower she was low on ammo and her jumpsuit was stuck to her body more than usual. Not for the first time she was grateful to have a minigun on standby. Both agents were wary of riding a two-hundred year old cradle, especially on the outside of the building.

The man responsible for the transmission ran off the second they were on the ground, leaving the two woman with the last thing they’d been expecting. Today had been full of enough surprises already.

“I take it back, _this_ is fucking weird.”

“I agree.” She replied, both of them staring up at the super mutant and wondering what to do with him.

“The Railroad will gun him down before we make it through the door.” Assuming he would even _fit_ through the door.

“And it might be a step too far for Preston.”

Strong grunted, seemingly unaware that the two women were deciding his fate.

“You could always take _him_ with you. Radiation wouldn’t be a problem, and he can clearly handle himself.” It was a joke but also true, something Whisper might want to consider because despite what she thought, she _couldn’t_ go alone.

It took them over an hour to decide to leave him roaming the street’s of Boston outside Trinity Tower. He could take care of himself; the eventual plan to take him to Sanctuary. He couldn’t go on his own and both of them were too exhausted to go back the way they just came.

Glory guarded the tunnel door as Whisper got changed and although the synth couldn’t blame her, given what they were both covered in, but she was taking it to a whole new level. After everything Whisper had shared, all the masks she’d taken off she was feeling vulnerable, incredibly exposed, and Glory could help but smirked at just how similar she and Deacon really were.

She walked into the war room, finally ready to face Deacon after a day away from him, only to find he wasn’t there. Glory was quick to notice and quicker to ask Dez where he was.

“I’ve no idea, I’ve not seen him all afternoon.”

The two agents looked at one another, sharing a look because the chance that Deacon had been following them was tremendously high and it was hard to figure out if they were angry or worried, perhaps both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I wrote a chapter without Deacon in it, it was easier than I thought lol.
> 
> Thanks for being here to celebrate with me. You guys rock! xx


	42. If You Only Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon doesn't come back to HQ and everyone starts to worry. Fortunately two agents have the gull to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [If You Only Knew - Shinedown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xY0HCKOmrW0) \- mostly because I am obsessed with them right now)
> 
> Okay so I feel I need to explain a few times before you read this lol.
> 
> Though I have no regrets about the way I left my last chapter I was a bit stuck on how to continue. I thought that maybe I would just let Deacon have a simple day but it was too mundane for him, so I came up with this idea instead.
> 
> I struggled with it for weeks, I had lots of notes but no idea how I was going to put everything together. It got so bad that I figured just scrapping it and taking an easier route. 
> 
> But thanks to some tremendous support I powered through. I'm still not perfectly happy with it but I really like the idea I came up with so love it or hate it, I took a risk.

_I am a man more sinned against than sinning._

 

The world was calm that evening, the sun was descending beyond the horizon, lighting up the sky with red and orange, the distant glow that looked warm and inviting; like a low burning campfire. He sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. He looked down at his dirt covered overalls and sighed contently, it was as though a weight had been lifted, he felt at peace, which was something he had not felt in quite some time.

Today had been productive, from sunrise to sunset, so much had been accomplished but more importantly, everyone was safe.

“Jake asked about you,” came Barbara’s soft voice as she stepped out onto the patio. He looked at her, her brown hair curling just beyond her shoulders and the white flowery dress she wore; she had worked just as hard, got almost as dirty as him, though you wouldn’t think so looking at her now.

He raised an eyebrow and sat up, outstretching his hand to accept the drink she was offering. “Oh yeah? What did he want this time?”

“The same thing as last time, he would _really_ like your input with his latest invention.”

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. “That boy needs to find himself a girl.”

“Well,” she rested back on the adjacent chair, her finger delicately tracing the rim of her glass. “I think he already has.”

Always one to enjoy the recent town gossip he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees which were shaking slightly with anticipation.

“Who?” He asked like an excited child.

Barbara rested her head in her hand, her thumb and forefinger framing her face. Her eyes travelled towards the upstairs window of the house before looking back at her husband. She laughed to herself, watching his face change from confusion as he followed her gaze to absolute horror when the pieces clicked into place.

“No,” he said, disbelieving. Barbara nodded slowly. “What? Bu- _what_?” He looked back at the window. “But…she’s too young.”

“She’s fourteen years old, honey. She’s going to start looking at boys, and boys are going to start looking at her.”

He didn’t reply, he simply remained staring at the window, suddenly mourning a childhood that shouldn’t be over. Sensing his discomfort, Barbara got out of her chair and glided over to him, planting herself on his lap as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

“She’s growing up,” she told him as she ran her hand over his head, her eyes travelling to their daughter’s bedroom window. “She’s not our little girl anymore.”

He said nothing, nor did he take his eyes away from the window. Barbara kissed his temple and looked at him, tickling the back of his neck with her hand in an effort to comfort him.

“Come on,” she peeled herself off him, outstretching her hand for him to take, “let’s go to bed.”

He got as far as putting his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to get up, but a force greater than him prevented him from standing.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Barbara sighed. “Okay,” she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “But those things will kill you,” she whispered against his skin.

He waited for her to step inside the house, closing the door behind her, before reaching into his pocket to pull out his pack of smokes. He opened the packet and looked at it, quickly counting his remaining cigarettes.

Seventeen left, and he’d only found the packet yesterday morning. He was meant to be giving up, but cutting down was still an accomplishment. He would regret it in the morning, the tight chest and sore throat, but he’d just come to the sudden realisation that his daughter would eventually grow up to be a woman, and being a woman meant finding a man, settling down and having a family. In his mind she was still that little four year old girl that would scream for him whenever she hurt herself.

He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, putting it between his lips, and held the lighter just a centimetre too far away, unsure if he really wanted one.

_She’s not our little girl anymore._

Instantly his hand was closer and he took his first drag as he shook his head, trying to throw the words out of his brain. If it were up to him, and such a thing were possible, she would stay his little girl forever.

One cigarette became two and then quickly three. He didn’t stop smoking until his body started to reject it. He slipped the packet back into his pocket, stood up and made his way into the house. His hand paused on the handle as he heard a voice, close, almost whispering to him. He turned, looked left and right, and into the distance, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find the source. But he saw nothing other than the field that enveloped his home and a few residents of University Point packing up and turning in for the evening.

He shrugged it off and walked into the house, ready to put his head down on a relatively comfortable pillow and let his body take care of the rest.

 

* * * *

 

Glory, much like Whisper (she assumed), had been thinking the same thing; that Deacon had been following them. She knew he wouldn’t arrive immediately after them, he would give it a while, but with every hour that went by Glory couldn’t help but worry.

It wasn’t her imagination, she knew what she was feeling was shared by everyone else. Deacon going off somewhere and no one knowing where wasn’t exactly a rare thing, it was far more common that Dez would certainly like, but this was different. No one was openly acknowledging it was there, the unsettling feeling of the unknown. It was in the air, a wispy cloud of tension that grew thicker as the night progressed. Her and Whisper had separated a while ago, each of them following their own line of investigation into his whereabouts.

She took her pack into the escape tunnel, pulling out her Pip-Boy and moved quickly over to her settlement app (a nice gift from the people of Vault 81 when they discovered her role as General) and stared at the emblem that marked Hangman’s alley. It was the only place she could think of, the only place he _might_ be because she knew without it being said that he had figured out what the words were. It might have been her biggest mistake to date, letting him even have the chance to figure it out. She clicked on the icon and reviewed its status, the terminal hadn’t been used recently and her heart sunk.

Glory kicked the door open, briefly enjoying the cool air as it hit her face before focusing on the task at hand. No one else in the Railroad knew about this place, and if they did they certainly never used it, but she and Deacon used to spend a lot of time up here, talking about everything and nothing, sometimes simultaneously. She needed to find a sign that he had been there, and when she counted the amount of cigarette ends in the ash tray she got her answer. She sighed with relief, practically jumping inside with joy, and searched for any more clues. With the exception of Vault 111, no matter how small or mundane the mission, Deacon _always_ left her some kind of clue; just in case.

The sun was on its way up by the time she gave up and stopped looking, they’d written so many messages and codes to each other that it became difficult to decipher what was old and what was new. Neither of them were going to be able to figure it out on their own, so she made her way back to Whisper. Only to find that she had been doing her own worrying, pacing around the war room, making strained idle chat with agents she passed. It could have been the synth’s imagination but it seemed as though Whisper was avoiding her, like if they stood too close their worriment would meld together and the world would implode due to the pressure.

More and more regularly Glory was walking by Tom’s terminal to check the time, pacing up and down the war room and it’s adjoining tunnel as she waited. Deacon was a grown man, a veteran spy and could handle himself perfectly well but there was a voice in the back of her head, telling her that if he had followed them then he heard everything she and Whisper had spoken about. She feared he might do something stupid. Which may be his MO, but it could be stupid enough for him not to come back from.

When she finally sat on her mattress in the early hours of the morning and stared at the door to the escape tunnel, she found herself turning into Deacon, when he was waiting for Whisper to come back to HQ. What she wouldn’t give to spend more time with her own kind, spending all this time with humans was turning her into one, and Glory was proud to be a synth. Not unlike a human, but not the same either.

As her mind wandered to another just like that, the woman in question sat down next to her, finally making her worry obvious too.

Everyone else had been asleep for hours, letting their ignorance get them there. The only people awake were the two of them, and their boss.

“I’ve just seen Desdemona chain smoke an entire packet in less than ten minutes,” she stated grimly.

“Tom’s been staring at the cameras all day, he’s not seen anything.”

“Glory,” she knew how worried she sounded, she couldn’t help it.

“I know.” Waved off Glory, refusing to indulge her own worriment.

“Where would he go?” She asked as her eyes travelled to the door, willing him to step through.

Glory frowned and then shrugged because honestly she had no idea, there were plenty of secret corners and hideaways in the Commonwealth that Deacon could use, and there were probably a hundred more that only he knew about. “You’d have a better idea than I would.”

Because all of Glory’s ideas had come up empty. She and Deacon rarely travelled together, the Railroad couldn’t afford for _both_ of them to die in a botched mission. Whisper and Deacon probably travelled most of the Commonwealth together by now.

They sat on their respectively mattresses, their eyes stuck on the door, periodically glancing down at Whisper’s pack between them, her Pip-Boy inside with the time flashing, and waited. Another hour past, agents around them had started to fall into bed and eventually the only people awake where the two ‘heavies’ and their leader, who remained in the war room, a cigarette never leaving her hand.

“How long do you think it’ll be before she asks me to go find him?” she whispered to Glory.

Both of them sat with their knees under their chin, their arms crossed over and their heads bent forward, leaning against each other for both comfort and privacy.

“She wants to, but she won’t,” replied Glory in the same hushed tone. “She doesn’t want to entertain the rumour that she cares about him, which she totally fucking does.”

If everyone around her could just express their feelings a little more, and stop bullshitting so much, Glory might find her life a little simpler, though not too simple, she would be bored.

“I’m really starting to worry,” she admitted aloud for the first time.

“I know,” sighed Whisper. “Me too.”

They both looked down at her Pip-Boy, their foreheads rubbing together, Glory’s white hair weaving its way into the red of Whisper’s wig.

“Another hour?” questioned Glory.

“I was thinking half that.”

Glory didn’t acknowledge the fact that Whisper was more desperate to find him, out loud at least. She may not show it, like Dez did, or even express it out loud, like Glory sometimes did, but Whisper really did care about him. It was nice to know their relationship wasn’t so damaged it was beyond saving.

 

* * * *

 

He felt something heavy hit his chest and his body woke up, his eyes remaining closed. He was confused by the soft material underneath him but soon remembered where he was. He was unsure as to why the concept of waking up in his bed seemed strange to him, he’d woken up in this particular bed hundreds of times, it seemed odd to suddenly find it unfamiliar.

His eyes burst open at the sound of a girlish giggle and he snapped his head towards the doorway. He caught sight of the ends of curly blonde hair before it disappeared.

“Come on, Dad. You can’t sleep in all day,” came her young voice and instantly his brow furrowed. He heard her go down the stairs, two at a time if his ears were to be believed, and for a split second he wondered to whom the voice belonged.

He shook his head, mentally punching himself for not recognising the voice of his own daughter. Ever since their conversation last night he hadn’t felt right, he was in the world physically but mentally he was somewhere else. Where? He had no idea but he had a strange feeling that he needed to pay attention to it more.

Barbara’s voice calling for him from downstairs put him back into his reality, forgetting his unease almost immediately and practically leapt down the stairs. If he were a little younger (and weighed a little less) he would have slid down the banister, but it probably would have broke and Barbara would have yelled at him. Being sensible and practical wasn’t as much fun as doing what he wanted.

When he reached the kitchen Barbara was stood at the sink, washing up dishes from the breakfast she had already had.

“Where’d she go?” He asked the back of her head seconds before he noticed the porch door was open.

“Outside,” she replied and he could tell by the sound of her voice that she was smiling. Her eyes were glued to the window, obviously watching their daughter to make sure she didn’t stray too far, not that such a thing were possible in University Point. Everyone knew everyone, she wouldn’t be able to step two feet outside of their fence without someone sending her back.

“You know,” he began as he took a seat at the kitchen table, his eyes falling on the steaming cup that had been waiting for him. “I’m starting to wish she’d become a moody teenager and spend all day in her room.”

“No you don’t.” Barbara turned and made her way towards the table. “You just want her to stay in her room and not talk to boys.”

Her father had been the exact same way, her wonderful husband seemed to have forgotten the threat-laced lecture her father had given him. Somehow, because it took him over two weeks to tell her about it and when she threatened to talk to him, he begged her not to.

“I don’t necessarily see why that’s such a bad thing,” he grasped the mug with both hands as he leaned back in the chair. “There was once a time when I was the only boy she needed.”

“Yes,” she placed her hand half way on the table, inviting him to hold it. She smiled when he did. “And on some level, you always will be. But we have to let her go some time, Cheese.”

He groaned, his hand ripping away from Barbara’s as he brought his hands to his face and his head fell back.

“I forgot about that,” he moaned underneath his hands. “We had a plan for our first episode too.”

“Yes,” she said again, this time a little eire to her voice. “I know. The great adventures of Mac ’n’ Cheese.”

He leaned back in the chair, balancing on its back legs as he looked out the door, squinting to spot the blonde fuzzy figure in the distance.

“Just enjoy these moments whilst you can, honey.” At some point she must have stood up, though he hadn’t heard her, because her voice was in his ear and he felt her lips briefly press against his skin. “When she needs you, she’ll find you.”

 

* * * *

 

Upon hearing the unmistakeable roar of a Deathclaw the two agents looked at each other and hit the ground. Together they crawled along the disbelieved pavement towards a high piece of wall. She looked at Glory, who gave a single nod of her head as she willed her heartbeat to slow.

They were both exhausted, relying on only a few hours sleep between them. Despite the readings on her Pip-Boy she wanted to check Hangman’s alley for herself, the only thing stopping her being that Glory was tagging along. Ultimately she decided it didn’t matter, Glory knew everything else about her, and if it meant finding Deacon then it would be worth it.

As she suspected, it got her nowhere. Knowing she didn’t have the time, but not being able to stop herself she looked around, checking the turrets and terminals as she passed. She barely ever spent any time here, so it wasn’t as though supplies were low, but judging by the battery levels of the turrets and traps they had been a lot of foot fall, and going by the lack of bodies, Sam was still instructing the caravan to check in every now and then.

Her eyes fell to the wall and she edged closer, a sad smile threatened to leave her when she spotted the ‘Z’ written over its rightful line and she sighed, not really knowing what she felt. A lot of things all at once.

The two women eventually decided that Bunker Hill may be their best best, it was a neutral place known to all sorts of people and someone might have seen him. They briefly discussed picking up Strong and walking him to Sanctuary but went against the idea, deciding that Kessier would shoot all three of them and no doubt the super mutant would just get in the way.

Carefully she peered over the wall, having to stretch more than her small stature was comfortable with in order to look down into the sink hole. She took less than a second to survey the area before rejoining Glory on the ground.

“Good news, I can see the section Savoldi mentioned. There’s a small stream leading into a cave.”

When they got to Bunker Hill the first person they went to was Tony Savoldi, secretly testing to see if he were good enough for the Railroad. She had been asked by his dad to convince him not to and, at the time, she was in two minds, because she was an agent but her disdain for Desdemona was at its highest.

They both laughed at the ridiculousness of Joe’s story, they understood the need to find answers about loved ones but even they thought it was a little too easy, too straightforward, for someone with Deacon’s skill set.

Neither of them were saying it out loud, but they had been incredibly wrong. Nothing was ever easy and straightforward when it came to Deacon.

“What’s the bad news?” _Because there’s always bad news._

“There’s two of them.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Glory wanted to scream, but she valued her life. “We can’t do this, not on our own. Not fucking two of them.” The synth felt that just one Deathclaw was going to be difficult enough.

“It looks like a mother and her offspring, the other is smaller and the bigger one isn’t even an alpha. I think they’re stuck down there.”

“Right, so we could kill the baby, and piss its mother off. Or we can attempt to shoot the mother, and piss it off.”

“I’m not going back, Glory,” she told her adamantly. “It’s been two days already,” a lump formed in her throat at the image of Deacon’s lifeless body.

“We don’t even know for sure that he’s down there. We could get killed for nothing.”

There was a moment of silence as both of them contemplated their opinions and their fate. She closed her eyes and listened, it was something she neglected to tell Glory, mostly because she was ignoring it herself. She couldn’t explain it, not in words, but she could sense it whenever he was near. Probably came from months of repetition, she thought bitterly.

“I’m willing to take that risk, are you?”

Whilst Glory’s eyes bulged at the conviction in Whisper’s voice, she smiled, passion like that was hard to fake. Of course, every agent would fight until their last breath for each other but it was different with those two. Everything was.

 

* * * *

 

“You know, I’m starting to think she’s avoiding me.” He told Barbara as he stepped back into the house that evening. He sighed and hung his hat on the hook on the door and unclasped his overalls.

“Take your shoes off,” she told him without looking, already knowing that he hadn’t taken them off outside, like she had asked him to do a thousand times.

“I mean it,” he shouted back, stepping out of his shoes, bracing himself against the wall for support. “I’ve not seen her all day and when I do I swear she’s on the other side of the field, on purpose.”

“She’s probably playing with you, honey.” Her voice was softer as she stepped into the hallway to greet him properly. “She knows you’re worried, so-“

“How does she know that? And who says I am?”

She eyed him knowingly. “Because she knows you, as do I. Though I suspect she knows more than she should, I can only imagine the stories you’ve told her when I’ve not been around.”

“Hey,” he held up his hands defensively, shaking his head slightly. “She wouldn’t go to sleep and you said it was my turn.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t go too over the top. She gets her imagination from you.”

He could help but smile, it was the best thing she could have inherited from him. She was lucky she got everything else from Barbara.

Barbara took a step forward to wrap her arms around her husband’s waist as she stretched her neck to kiss him.

“Where is she now?” he asked against her mouth and Barbara rolled her eyes.

“Outside still.” His brow furrowed, he hadn’t seen her. “The sun is still up, it was your rule.” She reminded him. “Go get her if you’re so worried.”

“I told you, she’s avoiding me.”

“Maybe she’s trying to find you too, and you both keep missing each other.” She shrugged, not really being able to explain the inner workings of their daughter. Of course she had been the same age once and she could somewhat relate, but thanks to her father, she was a rule unto herself. There was no one quite like Mac.

 

* * * *

 

“Are you sure?”

“Just go!” screamed Glory, not taking her eyes off the Deathclaw way too close for comfort.

Killing the mother first had been a smart decision and Whisper stuck around to help. Only when the baby Deathclaw was weak did she look towards the edge and down at the entrance to the cave.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and absorbed the sound of Glory’s minigun. She gave the synth one last after thought before jumping down further into the crater, hoping it was deep enough. The initial suction of her landing forced her underwater and she panicked for less than a second before relaxing and letting the water take her to the surface. She took a welcomed gasp of air and let the flow of the water take her into the cave.

As if she’d gone through an invisible door the sound of Glory’s minigun stopped and was replaced with the dank, echoey noise of the cave. She raised an eyebrow as she floated by the body of two dead ghouls, one of them a green glowing mess, and she almost smiled. At least he got that far.

She looked ahead and scrambled to the side when she spotted an arm behind a boulder just a distance away. She took off her soaking wet pack, suddenly thankful for the stop over in Hangman’s alley after all because she was only carrying the essentials and held it in her hand she ran to it. She was fearing the worst and was overwhelmingly relieved to find that the arm had the rest of its body attached. She wrapped her arms underneath his shoulders and tried to pull, having to sit down on the ground behind him and put her foot on the wall for leverage.

She was grateful that he was unconscious, because he would never let her live this down.

“Come on,” she grunted and with one strong pull she dragged his body closer to her.

She knelt above him to press her ear against his chest to check his heartbeat. His heartbeat was still slow underneath her hand, barely there but still there, and it was the only solace she could find. She sat up and ran her eyes over his body, he wasn’t too badly injured, mostly just beaten and bruised. Considering the Deathclaw was still alive he probably fell into the water accidentally, using his last bit of strength to fight two ferals.

 _And find Grandpa Savoldi’s hat_ _apparently_ , she smiled when she spotted the hat nearby. She took a backwards glance and noticed the skeletal remains of Joe’s father whilst her hand reached into her pocket for a stimpack. She pushed the syringe into his arm, one of the worse of his injuries and began to wipe away the drying blood on his face. She huffed in annoyance at herself when she realised her arm - her entire body - was shaking.

“Deacon,” she croaked as her breath got caught in her throat.

Her eyes traced his body and she noticed the large rip in his jeans, the blood pooling around them. She squeezed her eyes closed, ignoring her fear, and reached for the last stimpack. She jammed it into his leg before holding his head, rocking it as she waited.

 

* * * *

 

“Dad, come on!” she shouted as she ran away and he really did try to catch up with her but either she was faster than he thought, or he was running on the spot.

No matter how fast his legs went she remained the same distance away, just far enough for him not to make any real features of her.

After an eternity he gave up, falling forwards exhausted and resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath back. He felt Barbara’s presence next to him and glanced back to find the house closer than it should be, as he stood up straight.

“Still wanna tell me she’s not running away?” He said her.

“Try not to be so obvious,” she told him calmly, her hand landing gently on his spine. “When she’s ready, she’ll find you.”

He felt her hand peel away from him and heard her walk back towards the house. He stood still, staring out into the distance to find the blurry image of his daughter where he last spotted her.

“Let’s go, Deacon.”

His brow furrowed, his mind wandering back to a life he was pretty sure wasn’t his. “Barbara?” She stopped at the threshold of the house.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you just call me ‘Deacon’?”

She sighed, shaking her head and made her way back towards him.

“Oh, sweetheart.” When she was close enough she reached up her hand to cup his face, she head still shaking slightly. “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

The confused expression remained glued to his face.

“Think about it, _really_ think.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and turned into himself, seeking answers to questions he was unsure of.

But one moment at a time images of a life flashed by him. It wasn’t his life, not the life he knew and yet it didn’t seem or feel so strange to see himself in those situations. He was a spy, and his mouth pouted at how cool that sounded. Knew lots of people, there was a crazy guy in some makeshift hat, an ebony skinned lady and he found himself laughing. Then, like a straight kick to the chest, his mind filled with the image of a small lady with curly blonde hair. She looked like Mac, or at least what he’d imagined his daughter looking in the future.

His eyes burst open and Barbara looked at him with pity. None of this was real.

“I will always love you,” she whispered. “You deserve to be happy.”

She stood on the tips of her toes as she stretched to plant her lips gently against his.

“But in order to do that, you need to wake up.” She felt his body tense, almost afraid. “It’s okay, you won’t be alone. She’s waiting for you.”

 

* * * *

 

The sounds of her quiet sobbing echoed off the walls of the cave as she laid across his chest, still listening to the faint heartbeat that she lost a few times. She’d failed. Again.

She found herself wishing Glory was there, maybe the synth had some medical knowledge that she didn’t. But she was up top, hopefully still alive and there was no one else to help her. She had done everything she could, patched him where he needed healing, even performed CPR on him just in case he swallowed some of the lake water, but nothing had made a difference.

The only person that could help Deacon was himself, and that notion made her want to cry harder because she knew, like her, a small part of Deacon would think everyone would be better off if he didn’t wake up.

But he was wrong, and she wanted him to wake up just so could tell him that. He did matter, to a lot of people, but more importantly he mattered to her. Not that’d ever admit out loud just how much.

She was resting her cheek on his chest when she felt him take a large breath. She sat up, her eyes snapping to his face and her breath caught in her throat.A pained gasp broke through the silence and Deacon coughed himself conscious.

“Deacon!” She couldn’t hide how happy she was.

“Whisper?” His voice was weak. “Wha- How?”

“Us Death Bunnies have got to stick together.” She told him as she helped him sit up, turning away to wipe the drying tears away from her cheeks

He looked around them, confused as he took in their surroundings.

“How did we get here?”

“Well, _I_ climbed down, I’ve no idea why you’re here but I imagine it had something to do with the deathclaw outside. Don’t worry, I brought back up to help me.”

Her breath hesitated when his hand reached up to cup her face, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. She was so overwhelmed with the fact that he was okay that she almost felt like crying. She indulged her bases urges (and her heart) and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and crash her chest against his. Her familiar, beautiful smell overwhelmed his senses. He crossed his arms behind her and pushed her further into him, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Remembering herself she pulled away, reaching into her wet pack to grab a bottle of water, she held it up for Deacon to take and as he did he wrapped his hand around hers.

“Whisper…”

She sniffed, desperate to hide the tear that streamed down her face.

“Drink.” She told him, pushing the bottle further in his direction and moving to turn away.

“Wait.” He squeezed the bottle, and subsequently her hand. “I…I need to know that…that you…”

She smiled delicately at him. She could always read him.

She placed a gentle hand on his face, just as he had done, leant forward to press her forehead against his and she took a deep breath. “Yes.” Quickly she moved to give him a chaste kiss on his forehead before moving away completely. “Now, drink.”

He watched her move away to the other side of the very cramped space whilst one hand brought the bottle to his mouth and his other hand went to touch his forehead, the same tingling sensation he got every time she kissed him.

Even through her sunglasses he could tell her eyes were on him, studying him to make sure he was okay. There was evidence that he had sustained some pretty gnarly wounds, but Whisper had clearly patched him up with a few stimpacks. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but the sun was high in the sky, beaming down on to him like he was stuck in a hotbox. No wonder Whisper was insistent that he drink. The cool, refreshing liquid was most welcome as it flowed down his throat, sending a chill down to his stomach.

Images of his dream were still seared onto his brain, even when he wasn’t dreaming about her, he was still dreaming about her. Though the fact that she had been personified as he daughter made him feel a bit disgusting.

“All that for a hat, huh?” She asked, breaking him out of his trance.

“Well, you know,” he shrugged and she chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I know. So, you good?” She asked, as nice as the moment was, Glory was still up on the surface.

Deacon nodded, despite a bruised ego he felt good.

“Then we should probably find a way out of here.” She stood up, offering a hand to Deacon for help. He took it and groaned as he stood up straight.

When they got to the surface she ran her hand down his arm, secretly checking his pulse as she wrapped her hand around his. She squeezed it, telling him in a single gesture just how worried she been, and how relieved she was. He looked down at her and smiled, a silent thank you. She did more than he could ever explain.

He was still looking at her when he felt a sharp pain in his arm.

“What the fuck?” screamed Glory, anger radiating from every part of her. “You pull that shit again and I’ll kill you myself!”

Deacon grabbed his arm, just thankful it wasn’t the one Whisper had just patched up.

“Alright, alright.” He relented, his hands up in surrender when Glory threatened to punch him again. “I promise, from now on I will consult you before doing something stupid.”

Next to him Whisper snorted, it wasn’t quite the answer Glory wanted but it was as good as she was going to get, and she knew it.

“I gotta say though, Glory. It’s nice to know you care.”

She went to punch him again, stopping herself and groaning in frustration as she turned away. It would be so easy to kill him.

Whisper pulled at his arm, dragging it to look at her. Her other hand checked him over.

“I’m going to take you to Goodneighbour, just so Dr Amari can have a look at you. But all in all, you’ll survive.”

 _Thanks to you_ , he wanted to say but he knew he wouldn’t, but she knew what he was thinking. She always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never happy with the back and forth structure when I have to use it but I couldn't help but picture this going on simultaneously and I couldn't think of a better way to do it. Suggestions are always welcome!
> 
> I feel like I've taken a big risk with this but at the end, I regret nothing =]
> 
> Thanks for reading, you are awesome! xx


	43. It Has Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no time to rest when duty calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: It Has Begun - Starset)
> 
> Sorry for the ridiculously long update, life keeps getting in the way and this chapter has been nothing but a pain in the ass because I know what I wanted to write but I kept changing how I wanted to write it.
> 
> So I had to suck it up and just do it, otherwise we'd be here forever. Anyway, enjoy folks.

_Ambition should be made of sterner stuff._

 

Deacon paced up and down the escape tunnel wondering what he’d done, besides almost dying, to piss off his two best friends. Okay, so Whisper didn’t seem all the pissed, she was more distracted and eager to leave than anything. Glory on the other hand was more short tempered than usual, she was snappy and once or twice looked as though she might punch him.

He’d only asked her a question, and given the fact that she was extremely familiar with his curious side it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

They’d barely made their way into Goodneighbor before Daisy was calling for her precious Sunshine. Deacon didn’t exactly find it shocking, Goodneighbor was the one place Whisper couldn’t sneak into, but a casual visit was not the reason they were there and anyone else she would have ignored but Deacon knew she couldn’t just ignore Daisy - she wouldn’t understand - so he gave her an out, told her to go and that they’d be back for her. All without saying a word to each other.

The visit to Amari went how he expected it to, internally he was okay, the bruises would heal, and laced into her follow-up advice was a lecture about being a reckless idiot. Naturally, like so many times before, the lecture didn’t register. The idea of dying young flew out the window over a decade ago, to be honest Deacon found it a miracle that he hadn’t been killed yet, and it’s not like he didn’t give people plenty of reasons to kill him either.

They got back to Daisy’s shop in time to see the ghoul push Whisper into the backroom and Deacon caught sight of the back of the dress she was wearing. Instantly he found himself wondering why she was wearing it, and more importantly, why she needed it.

Daisy was oddly flustered, avoiding eye contact with him but not Glory and his gaze switched between the two women, wondering what they were hiding, as they made idle chitchat. When Whisper came out of the backroom she was dressed in her usual garb and a brown parcel draped over her arm, his eyes fell to it immediately and his eyebrow raised.

Whisper tried to take the attention away from it, distracting them by asking how it went with Amari and a few observations, and for a while it worked, until Glory suggested they make a move. That was when she told them to go back without her, that she needed to go to Castle, under strict instructions from Daisy.

Glory didn’t question her decision out loud but Deacon suspected that, unlike him, she wasn’t questioning it internally either. One real look at the two of them interacting and Deacon realised that Glory might know the answer to the question he’d been asking himself since they stepped inside Daisy’s shop. So when Whisper said goodbye and walked out the gate he decided to ask.

“Who’s the dress for?”

Glory’s mood went downhill from there. She stormed out of the town and proceeded to ignore him, the very fact she wouldn’t answer him only confirmed that she did know something, then he wondered why she was so reluctant to tell him. And when she wasn’t ignoring him she was punching him and calling a fucking asshole and he missed the silence.

Glory practically dived through the door to the escape tunnel, ran off ahead to get to the war room first. Deacon was five steps behind her, ready to ask what the hell her problem was but Carrington caught him first, demanding to check him over, and judging by the look of disdain on his face the doctor was doing it entirely under orders from Dez.

When Carrington was done giving him the all-clear she went back to talk to Glory only to find she had left the war room, and she wasn’t on her mattress, or anyone else’s. As hurt as he was, he shrugged, if Glory wanted to be away from him so badly then fine, he’d figure out what was bugging her all on his own.

Two hours and a line of disturbed dirt in the floor later and he had figured out almost nothing, just inferring that it had something to do with him and Whisper. He was at a loss from there because it had been a while since they’re screwed with each other, and he was ninety-five percent sure Glory didn’t know they’d slept together. Actually, he was almost adamant that she did know but he doubted Whisper had admitted it to her, he certainly hadn’t. So what the hell was he suppose to have done this time? They hadn’t seen each other for almost a week.

Deacon was asking himself the same series of questions when, behind him, he heard the door open. He turned at the sound of an exasperated sigh and caught sight of Glory as she left the threshold of the door, turning back the way she came.

“Oi!” He shouted a little louder and more annoyed than he intended. He made his way toward her, stopping when she span around fast enough to terrify the crap out of him.

“What?” She replied just as loudly, just as irritated. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes were narrow and set. If looks could kill Deacon would be dead on the floor.

Sheepishly he took a step back, lowering his head, all the confidence he had a second ago had drained away.

“Yeah,” spoke Glory after a few seconds of silence, “that’s what I thought.” She rolled her eyes and turned back around.

“No,” he told himself more than anything but he said it loud enough for Glory to hear. “Wait.” He took a deep breath, tried to gain back some of the confidence that had evaporated and pulled off the metaphorical bandaid. “What the hell is your problem?”

Glory’s eyebrows shot off her face and she looked at him with disbelief. She knew Deacon was oblivious to a lot of things, downright just ignored a lot of things too but he knew exactly what he’d done over the past eight months or so. He just didn’t know that she knew too.

“Nothing.” She said through gritted teeth. She was holding herself back, choosing childish silence over screaming at him because she knew that once she started she wouldn’t stop. That was the problem with Deacon, if one liked him they forgot about his tiny indiscretions but eventually all those tiny things build themselves into something too big to ignore.

The trip back to HQ had zapped all the will and energy out of Glory, she knew something as simple as ignoring him wasn’t going to get him to stop. She would give him the fact that he almost died, and maybe it was her love for him that stopped her but the urge to drop kick him and beat the crap out of him was overwhelming. Just because she understood _why_ he had to run his mouth, didn’t mean she was okay with it, and he almost got them both killed a few times because asking her questions she wasn’t going to answer was evidently more important than shooting his rifle. Of course all of this was entirely lost on him, because the only thing he could think about was Whisper keeping something from him.

Internally she was begging him to shut up, to stop pulling at that particular thread because it wouldn’t end the way he wanted it to. She was trying to do him a favour. But Deacon was never one for letting things go, especially when it came to Whisper, and so he continued to push.

“So, you _do_ know something?” His voice went higher, excitement oozing off him. She looked at him, her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed, she knew he’d figured that much out already.

“Okay, Deacon.” She stopped, her eyes flickering the lamps that were still burning strong along the walls. “Do you wanna know what I know?”

He nodded like a child and internally she cackled because she was looking forward to wiping that smile off his face.

“I know that from the moment she stepped onto the Commonwealth, _you_ ,” she jabbed her finger in his chest, “have been following her, I know _you_ ,” another jab, “were the one who got everyone to gather intel on her and get Travis to broadcast it all over the Commonwealth. And I know that _you_ ,” and another, “left a giant, fucking Railroad ally sign the moment you saw her.”

She stepped back and folded her arms, huffing with satisfaction that she had successfully shut him up.

“Maybe, for once, let it be _her_ decision to tell you? Or maybe just stop talking and think for a moment. Really think.” Barbara’s face flashed in his mind and he did exactly what he’d done in his dream. “You’ve been given enough clues.”

Her words echoed in his ears as he walked his memories.

_Okay, so what do we know already?_

When he’d mentally checked out Glory left him to it, making her way back to the war room to ask Tom a favour, and to also keep a secret.

He went back over everything he’d seen or heard since he’d woken up in Sanctuary but his mind kept lingering back to one thing, and the voices knew it.

_So, who do you think she’s really wearing that dress for?_

He winced at the voice but ignored it, trying desperately to focus on something else.

_No, seriously. It’s got to be for someone, that much is obvious. So, who do we think it is?_

He should have known better than to think they would let the subject die. “No one.” he replied through gritted teeth, instantly annoyed that he’d acknowledged its existence.

_Do you want to know who I think its for? I’m going to tell you anyway. I think it’s for her boyfriend, maybe the two of them are getting back together._

_Nah, that’s not who its for, he’s already seen her naked, its not like she needs to get dressed up for him._

Deacon really didn’t want a reminder that MacCready had seen Whisper naked, or that anyone else other than him had. Beauty like that was too rare and too precious to share it around like that.

_I think it’s got something to do with the Brotherhood._

That statement made his spine straighten, an electrical surge flowing through him, locking his feet as he twisted his head, almost as if listening in to the voice.

_Think about it, Valentine said she was there when they arrived…your boss certainly aint mentioned them…and she has been spending a lot of time at Castle lately._

Daisy had told her to take it straight to Castle…and she had referred to them as ‘barbarians’.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He said under his breath before rushing inside.

 

* * * *

 

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer the voice she couldn’t hear, the voice that for all she knew could have been the light wind that always made its way through the tunnels of Fort Independence, her mind too far gone and her eyes fixated on the dress that hung on her wall. It was blue, like midnight in summer, vibrant but still dark, a spatter of glimmering lights blanketing its surface.

It was beautiful, as close to perfect as one could get and she would have smiled, if it weren’t for what the dress meant.

“Oi.” A hand flicked the bandana tied around her neck. She looked down at it and followed its arm to the face of her best friend. “Are you even listening to me?”

“You were talking?” She asked, confused because she hadn’t heard any voice other than her own.

He chuckled lightly, only somewhat annoyed.

“Can’t remember the last time you went that far.”

She absorbed within herself a lot when they were travelling together but she normally answered him eventually. It was rare that she didn’t hear him at all.

“You look pale,” he told her. “I mean even for you, you look pale.”

“It feels real,” she replied, her eyes glued back to the dress.

MacCready breathed a laugh. “What, because it didn’t before?”

She shook her head. “No, it was just an idea.” She spoke almost to herself, the implications of her reality weighing heavily on her.

Her gaze tore itself away, for just a second, to glare at the letter on her desk; her eyes drifting to the almost identical letter laying next to it.

It had been less than a week since she gave the design to Daisy, she wasn’t sure how long she was expecting it to take, at least a month she figured, but she didn’t think Daisy was capable of performing miracles.

Apparently she could, when given the motivation.

She stepped into the backroom of Daisy’s shop, pulled down the zip of its protective cover and out fell the letter. She recognised the insignia immediately and felt her stomach twist.

It laid to reason why Daisy had really worked through the night to finish it and she was partially relieved that it wasn’t just because of the reason Daisy had given her.

Daisy had begun working on it immediately, literally the moment she gave the ghoul the plan. Called in every favour, used every resource available to her and even worked through the night several times. Her reasoning being ‘anything for you’ when she asked why she’d put so much effort in.

“Are all women like this?” MacCready asked her, knowing that, once again, she was too far gone to hear him.

It also somewhat benefitted her that blocking him out delayed the lecture he was going to give her. Outwardly he had calmed down, since she first told him but, considering she had ignored all the advice he’d given her, inwardly he was scolding her to hell and back.

She was pulled back into the present when she heard a noise coming from the other side of the door, her ear twitching in an effort to focus. MacCready didn’t hear a thing until the door opened and Preston stepped through.

“General.” He greeted, tipping his hat in respect. She was grateful he had stopped saluting, now she had to get the rest of them to stop too. “Everything okay?” He wondered, his eyes switching between them. When they came through the gate a few hours ago there was a thick tension neither of them were addressing and MacCready had been pouting a lot.

“Well,” she began as she moved away from the wall and towards a nearby chair, “he’s talking to me without sounding like a child, so I’d say there’s progress.” She explained as she sat down, wincing as she did as she hit her coccyx.

“You alright, General?” Preston asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m good,” she replied as she readjusted herself in the chair, desperate to find a position that didn’t hurt. “Just got my ass handed to me on the way here.”

“You didn’t follow the safe road?” He wondered.

“Oh, she did,” interjected MacCready. “She’s talking about Dogmeat.”

Finding the nearest safe route had become second nature to her and so she walked towards Castle with the dress folded over one arm and her hand rubbing the envelope underneath. Her fingers gliding over the insignia made her feet move a little faster knowing the Brotherhood had responded so quickly, either her caravans were more efficient than even she thought or the Elder had his response already prepared. Not that she could judge him for that, she’d been preparing her response to this particular letter ever since she wrote the first one.

Her mind was on getting the letter, herself and the dress safely to Castle, she didn’t notice the tiny stone fly past her ear. Or the next one, or the next one.

She didn’t register anything coming up behind her until she was knocked off her feet. She groaned as her back hit the ground and instinctively rolled away when she felt something come up beside her.

She looked up at the familiar dog and her head fell to the side in confusion, she smiled softly when he copied her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” came a soft voice as another shadow crept over her.

She looked up, smiling at the face of her best friend and took the hand he was offering. She checked the parcel she’d successfully managed to keep a hold of even when she fell on her ass.

“Yes, I’ve missed you too,” she told Dogmeat as she brushed the dirt off her jumpsuit with one hand.

MacCready chuckled lightly. “Sorry,” he stepped next to her, “I did call for you, even chucked a few stones in your direction. There was only so long I could hold him back.”

Dogmeat fell to her side, staring up at her with his tongue hanging from his mouth, his joy obvious in the skip in his step. Wherever they were originally headed was forgotten to him and MacCready was happy to tag along, they were only out for the sake of being out anyway.

“So, how are you?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

“Now my heart is beating at a regular speed, just dandy.” He nudged her and she sighed. “I’m okay, the last few days have been crazy.”

“Yeah, I know. Curie won’t shut up about it, nice job by the way.”

She shook her head, for the umpteenth time she hadn’t done anything.

“Hey. you can cut that out,” he told her as he nudged her again, a little harder this time. “Nothing went wrong, everyone’s good, just enjoy it.”

His eyes fell on the parcel wrapped around her arm and his head tilted in curiosity.

“Whatcha ya got there?”

She looked down at her. “My response to the letter I received.”

“You came up with a plan then?”

“Actually, Preston and I did. When I wrote the first letter I went to him, I figured I couldn’t meet him as the General of the Minutemen without discussing it with Preston.” And at the time it gave her the perfect excuse to get away from Deacon.

She removed her hand from underneath the dress to reveal the letter she was holding. His eyes widened at the unmistakeable seal on the back.

“Blimey, doesn’t waste time does he?”

She shook her head and looked down at her dress. She was starting to feel it now, that sense of apprehension, the rush of adrenaline mixed with completely terror.

“Neither does Daisy. I gave her a rough idea of what I wanted and she worked nonstop to get it done.”

MacCready huffed a chuckle, of course Daisy had.

“Are you heading to Castle too?” She asked, ready to move the conversation onwards and whilst MacCready’s eyes bulged and he shook his head, he knew he shouldn’t have expected anything else. He nodded in response. “Why?”

“Because, unlike you, I like to check in every now and then.” He smiled.

“Maybe Preston should make you General instead,” she told him, not entirely joking, because from what Preston had told her, MacCready had done a lot for them over the past few months, certainly more than she’d done.

“You’ve not been to Diamond City recently, have you?”

“I tend to avoid that place whenever I can,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“I wanted to know how Nick was doing, I haven’t seen him since Goodneighbor.”

“Is this about that little mission of yours?” She nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she was surprised he had to ask.

“Why are you suddenly trying to get as much done as possible?” 

Her mouth drooped, she knew that if anyone noticed it would be him, she knew she had to tell him eventually, she had to tell everyone eventually, and she closed her eyes before she started crying. This was going to be hard.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and ran it down his arm to take hold of his hand.

“RJ,” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, revelling in the sound of his nickname, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

The short and long of it was relatively simple, but telling him was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. It hurt more than when she told Preston or Glory, because this was her best friend, the person who had helped keep her alive for her first four months in the Commonwealth.

She watched his face throughout the entire thing, the sadness and hurt made her heart ache and by the end of it he was speechless, his face emotionless. She didn’t push him, even though she wanted to because she would rather he shout or cry than say nothing; for the first time ever she couldn’t read a thing on him and it scared her.

“You’ve known since the moment you stepped out of the pod.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement and so she remained silent.

“Please don’t tell me you plan on going alone.”

She remained silent, worried to tell him that it was her exact plan.

“I don’t fucking think so,” he exclaimed unapologetically.

“You’re not coming,” she told him, her voice firm.

“I’m not necessarily saying me,” that was one journey he wasn’t about to sign up for. “But you have to take _someone_.”

“And who would you suggest?” She stopped, gesturing her hands out to welcome any idea he had.

“I get that you’re worried about someone getting hurt but there’s at least three people you know who can walk in there with you without getting killed by radiation.”

“It isn’t just the radiation I’m worried about.”

They went back and forth all the way to Castle, never quite shouting at each other but it was clear they were both frustrated with one another. The only reason he stopped voicing his protest out loud was because she heard the gates open up the path and she pushed MacCready as an indicator for him to shut up, it wouldn’t look good for the General to be seen having a fight in the middle of the courtyard and MacCready had a big mouth.

“So,” Preston began, his gaze switching to MacCready before going back to her. “What exactly was his issue?”

“I told him I’m going into the Glowing Sea.” She shrugged, her face pulling an awkward expression.

“Wait,” came MacCready’s voice, he unfolded his arms and took a step towards them, his eyes fixed on the lieutenant. “Did you know?”

Preston looked at his General, slightly uncomfortable. “You told _him_ before you told me?”

“Yes, I told my Lieutenant before I told my best friend,” she told him, hiding her sadness because it hurt to say it. She could understand how he felt, and she knew she should have told him a while ago but he also had to understand _why_ Preston had been the first person.

“You were more worried about the Minutemen than me?”

She looked at him, slightly disgusted by his behaviour. “ _No_ , RJ, I am not ‘more worried’ about the Minutemen than I am you, but I am more worried about the future of the Commonwealth.”

“Is it just me, or did you think she’s insane too?” he pointed at her, his head turning towards Preston.

The Lieutenant put his hands up defensively, not willing to get in the middle of whatever the hell this was.

“RJ, I’ve gone to Amari for advice about radiation,” her lip twitched in disgust when sherecalled the suggestion of power armour. “I’m going to see what I can do to my jumpsuit to help, I’m not just going to walk in there on a fucking whim.”

Otherwise she would have been there and back by now, even he had to see that. He’d known her long enough, he knew how much she liked to plan everything, consider every possibility. She was starting to realise that in some ways she was better off how she was before, without emotions, because they were currently getting in the way and this was what she feared, that everyone would be too worried about her safety to look at the big picture. Going into the Glowing Sea meant she was one step closer to finding the Institute, surely MacCready had to see that.

“Just answer me one question,” he paused, for what she could only assume was dramatic effect, “if I hadn’t bumped into you today would Maxson have found out before me?”

She shook her head, feeling remorse that he even thought it was a possibility. “No, I have no intention of telling him anything any time soon. I’m meeting him, that’s all. Now, can I _please_ do what I came here to do?” she pleaded and he nodded, not completely satisfied but he would drop the subject for now.

She looked at her dress hanging on the wall. “It’s only part one of the plan,” she admitted, gesturing towards it. “Amongst all the things I hide are two things I can _really_ use to knock him. It’s why I closed the door.” Preston raised an eyebrow. “I need you there with me, and you won’t be of any use if you’re as tongue tied as I expect Maxson to be.”

He looked at her intrigued and expectant.

“How often do you listen to Diamond City radio?” she wondered

“Now and then,” he shrugged.

“Vault Dweller is the name Piper gave me in her article.” 

Despite himself, MacCready chuckled, recalling that day instantly.

Preston involuntarily blurted a laugh, quickly covering his mouth. “I, uh, read that particular interview, didn’t think it was you though.”

“Just as it’s never been mentioned in any broadcast or article that the General is a woman. Everything is by design,” she sighed, almost in sadness at how quickly her original plan unravelled. “Or at least it _was,_ but the point is that every name I go by is real, to some extent. I really did come from a vault, the one up the hill for Sanctuary actually, and I really did travel through time.”

MacCready was surprised to hear her say it out loud, evidently over the past eight months she’d come a long way, opening up was becoming easier for her. She didn’t go into extreme detail, downright skipped passed a few factors MacCready deemed important, just gave Preston what she felt he needed to know. With each detail she revealed she took off an article of clothing, starting with her jacket, then her bandana and finally, her sunglasses. Preston visibly stiffened, as if suddenly frozen in place.

He smiled, remembering that it was his exact reaction the first time too, even now it was hard to get used to and he’d seen it a ton of times.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Cryogenics is a real bitch. You’d think there’d be some kind of perk to it, like being able to see in the dark or something. I didn’t get that, but I did get something equally ridiculous.” She looked around the room, none of the gas lamps were lit and it was still early in the day. Then her eyes landed on the mountains of blankets that covered the bed she had yet to sleep in. She reached down to snatch one, throwing it at her Lieutenant. “Put it over your head,” she instructed as she did the same with another blanket. She smiled at the confused look on MacCready’s face before she disappeared underneath the blanket.

They moved closer, creating a small fort for themselves. Preston was confused at first, wondering where the strange light was coming from, even more so when he realised where it was coming from.

“I think you’ll give him a heart attack, let alone knock him back a step.”

She laughed at his comment and then peeled the blanket off her head. “That was certainly a lot less blue than someone’s reaction,” she titled her head towards MacCready.

He scoffed, her reaction had been just as bad and they had found out at the same time.

“Well,” Preston cleared his throat, “now that that’s done, let’s have a look at that letter.”

They walked over to her desk, MacCready following slowly behind. She looked at the letters, focusing on the most recent one, staring and studying it because something didn’t feel right. She reached across to pull his previous letter closer. She placed them side by side and noticed it immediately.

“Do you see that?”

The two men leant forward and studied both letters. After a few seconds Preston finally saw it too.

“The handwriting is different.” MacCready’s eyebrows raised when he finally noticed.

“Exactly, the first one is more official, and I think,” she leant closer to them, seeing the patterns in the writing, “it was written by a woman. The handwriting isn’t nearly as neat with this one,” she pressed her finger on the other letter, “and the language is more simple. I think he wrote this one himself.”

She face scrunched up in distaste, realising that he had got some Commonwealth version of a secretary to write the first one, and because she was a woman her response had made it look as though she had done the same.

As she passed Preston some paper and a pen he looked at her confused.

“You don’t mind, do you?” She held out the pen for him to take. “My handwriting is too girly.”and MacCready had the handwriting of a five year old.

“All of your talents and you can’t fake writing like a man?”

“I could, but I’d rather not risk it, Elder Maxson might be more intelligent than I’m giving him credit. Besides, it’s harder to change your handwriting than you think.”

She grabbed her own piece of paper and began scribbling notes, prompting herself to use more official words and she made a note of every word that he wrote. The men sat in silence and waited for her to finish, both willing to give their input if she so required but, given how fast the pen was moving, she was doing just fine on her own.

After she was done she pushed several pieces of paper in Preston’s direction, both men sat dumbfounded, completely in shock as they watched her pull out paper after paper. Elder Maxson’s letter wasn’t even that long.

The Lieutenant began copying straightaway, MacCready was still looking at her.

“What?” She asked, her arm shrugging as her other slid across the table and she propped her head in her hand as she watched Preston write like a machine.

MacCready shook his head and tutted, a small smile creeping over his face. He couldn’t help it, it was who she was and he loved her for it.

“So how many people know where you’re going now?” He asked without looking away from his writing.

“Three, you two and another friend of mine,”

“You mean Glory?” The men asked in unison.

Her head flinched back in shock, her brow furrowing. She looked at MacCready, her eyebrow raised.

“You took Curie back to Sanctuary with her, do you really expect anything less?” 

“Nice job by the way.” MacCready winced at Preston’s comment, looking at her for her reaction.

“I had very little to do with it,” she replied, again.

“That’s not the way Curie is telling it,” MacCready informed her. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the people of Sanctuary bowed at your feet the next time you step through.”

“Well,” she began to sit up, no longer feeling comfortable. “Looks like I won’t be going back to Sanctuary ever again.”

“Don’t be like that,” Preston’s gaze switched back and forth between the piece of paper he was writing on, the notes he was copying and the Elder’s letter.

She looked at him, slightly proud. _And they say men can’t multitask._

“You’ve done a lot, you may not like the attention but you can’t be surprised that people are giving it to you, after everything you’ve done for them.”

“I keep telling you Preston, they did it for themselves, I just gave them a push.”

“Just like I did with you, you mean?”

“Something like that,” she relaxed back on the table, leaning forward with intrigue as she watched Preston formulate a letter worthy of a General from the points they’d made.

Preston pressed the pen back onto the paper but paused as his eyes fell on a particularly interesting paragraph.

“Are you sure about this bit?” He asked, pointing at it.

She leaned forward to see what he was referring to. “Oh yeah,” she replied confidently. “He wants me on his ship the least he can do is provide the transport.”

“I get that bit, but do you really want to threaten him?” There was no other word he could find to describe it. 

MacCready couldn’t help but lean in at that remark, upon seeing what Preston was referring to he breathed a laughed. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at her. _I fucking love her_. She was right, it wasn’t a threat but it wouldn’t take a lot to see it as one.

“It’s not a threat, it’s a fact. Time is of a factor, I’ve no time to wait around for his response, let alone send another letter when he refuses, which he might if I give him the chance. I can only put off going there for so long, and there are more things I need to do before I go.”

“Such as?” He probed, scratching down the ‘not a threat’.

“I promised Nick I’d help him with a mission, one he’s waited over two hundred years to complete.”

“Sounds familiar.”

She huffed a laugh. “I need to do them, in case I never get the chance.”

MacCready’s face sunk in sadness, he had been too busy dealing with his own emotions to realise how much all of this was having an effect on her. They’d spent more time apart than they had together now and he had forgotten how well he could read her, how well he really knew her. And he hated himself just a little bit for forgetting.

Without saying a word she knew Preston understood her perfectly. They fell back into comfortable silence as he finalised their letter.

“I’ll get this to a caravan,” he told her as he folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope. “I’ll also tell the men to expect a Brotherhood vertibird in exactly two weeks.”

“That’s the spirit, Preston. Think positive.”

“Oh please,” came MacCready’s voice. “He won’t say no, his ego is far too big for that.”

Preston raised an eyebrow at the comment and looked towards her for answers.

“Apparently they go back a very long time,” she shrugged, “and I think the disdain is mutual.” She smiled, mildly irritated as she remembered MacCready’s rambling. It was one of the few times he didn’t apologise or react when he cursed.

Together they stood up and made their way out of her room.

“So, where are you off to next?” Preston wondered, it had to be a new record for her, spending this long in Castle.

“Diamond City. I need to ask Piper if I can borrow some shoes. I’m short and the dress is long,” she summed up at the dumbfounded expression he wore.

Eventually the two of them left Castle, they walked in silence, Dogmeat between them and stopped when they reached the first crossroads. They stood in silence, neither quite sure what to say. When Dogmeat whined they both looked down at him, although he was stood closer to her he was looking up at MacCready, pulling that face he knew no one could resist.

“Okay,” he relented with a smile and Dogmeat stuck his tongue out in joy. “I guess we’re with you,” he told her, secretly asking if it was okay.

“Sure,” she smiled and Dogmeat circled her legs. “I was going to go to Diamond City, get those shoes from Piper.”

“And talk to Nick?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if we get off the subject of me and talk about you?” She practically begged him.

Valentine had once told her she was the most interesting thing to happen to the Commonwealth but it didn’t mean she was okay with it. Opening up was becoming easier, but she still hated the fact she had to do it.

It was the biggest mission she ever done, the most difficult, and unlike all the others, she couldn’t do it alone. Despite all the months she’d been here the people around her had lived in the Commonwealth longer, still knew more than she did. She had no choice but to open up to people, because they needed to understand the why of it all if they were truly going to help her.

“Sure, besides I could use your advice on something.”

She listened as he told her about his time with Cait and battling her addiction. He’d been taking her from settlement to settlement in order to keep her mind distracted and give her a chance to meet people whom wouldn’t turn her away.

One night she had opened up to him about her parents and what they’d done to her. Cait had never had anyone care about her, and the people were supposed to, no matter what, threw her away.

“She’s not said out loud that she wants to be clean, but I know she’s been doing research on Vault 95.”

“Why?” _How many Vaults are there?_

“I’m not sure, but from what I’ve managed to find out it was designed to house chem addicts.”

“Under the guise of being a rehabilitation centre I imagine.” She scorned, her hands clenched into fists and her disgust towards Vault Tec boiled her skin. “I’ll do whatever research I can, I’m bound to find someone who knows something.” Like wherever the hell it was for starters.

 

* * * *

 

What pissed Glory off the most about Deacon was that, despite it usually being his fault, despite it not being her place to tell him, he had this look about him that made her feel sorry for him. Made her want to do the one thing she said she wouldn’t.

She wasn’t going to, no way, because she had made a silent promise to Whisper not to. By all rights Deacon didn’t need to know, he could just find out when the rest of them did, but seeing him stood against the wall like a lost little puppy had her feeling sorry for him.

She had decided not to tell him herself, but if he overheard her having a conversation with Tom and if curiosity got the best of him (like it normally it did) and he asked Tom, and Tom didn’t lie…well, that was hardly Glory’s fault.

“Any progress?” She asked the agent as she made her way toward him, her voice louder than necessary given the short distance between them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Deacon’s whole body twitch in curiosity, like when a dog’s ears perk up at the sound of something intriguing.

“I know I’m good but you gave it to me less than two hours ago, give me a chance, Glory.”

“Yeah, sorry.” She took another sidewards glance towards Deacon. “It’s just, it’s really important.”

“Why do you need a modified gas mask anyway?” He wondered, his face furrowed in confusion whilst his hand scratched the top of his head through his helmet.

“It’s not for me.” She told him. “It’s for a friend.”

That time she actually saw Deacon’s feet moved, his back lifting off the wall slightly. _So predictable_.

“Where’s your friend going, the Glowing Sea or something?”

Glory knew how awkward the atmosphere suddenly became, could sense Deacon’s brain screaming at her to elaborate.

“Or something,” she hummed as she turned to walk away, making a point to catch Deacon’s eye as she did and she saw the moment everything clicked in place and his brain caught up with the rest of him.

She headed back to her mattress, her eyes on the floor so she could see the shadow that would inevitably follow her, but it didn’t. At the archway she turned back to see Deacon still stood against the wall, his body and face stuck in the position it had been in thirty seconds ago. It was almost like he was a toy she’d just taken the batteries out of, he was stuck, broken almost, and Glory internally cursed Whisper for not telling him, or anyone else for that matter, sooner.

She anticipated an awkward situation when Whisper got back to HQ and decided it would be best if she weren’t around.

Maybe Griswold needed help…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for reading and don't hesitate to give your opinion.
> 
> Much love x


	44. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice gets the surprise of her life. Nora comes face to face with Winter one last time and Whisper deals with the aftermath of Glory's meddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a huge excuse for some beautiful fluff that came to be when I was thinking about what to do.  
> Is there any point in me warning about spoilers any more?
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Hero - Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGcsIdGOuZ))

_Now is the winter of our discontent._

_Nora was in the garden, tending to the flowers, whilst her eyes scanned around Sanctuary. Nathaniel was awake at his usual time, 7am, his phone glued to his ear the second he stepped out of bed. She’d gotten used to it by now, being ignored by him for the majority of the day, but she didn’t mind because it gave her the chance to do the job she was supposed to._

_Her wedding ring glistened in the sunlight, catching her by surprise every time. It had only been a few months since they got married and whilst Nora was used to it, loved it in fact, the rest of her wasn’t._

_Being given the mission was a blessing in disguise, every day criminals, con men and all of the above came to Sanctuary, either to align themselves with Nathaniel or beg him to spare their life. Most of them she recognised from either the database back home or the wall of the local police station._

_One particular man caught her attention immediately. She knew most of Nathaniel’s allies and rivals better than the back of her hand so her back was up, her mind screaming at her, when a new player entered the game. Edward James Winter._

_She and Nathaniel had been together almost a year, Winter hadn’t been at the wedding and she was adamant that the two of them had never met before, Nathaniel certainly never spoke about him. Then again Nathaniel didn’t really speak about a lot of things. But the day he came to Sanctuary and Nathaniel introduced them he spoke as if he’d known her for years. Shaking his hand made her skin crawl and her smile was strained when he pulled her into a hug, she wasn’t used to people being so touchy feely with her._

_Maybe it was because he had brown eyes and she always found brown dull but he seemed just as dead behind the eyes as Nathaniel, most criminals she met did. Perhaps it had something to do with their occupation, maybe it was the way they’d always been, but it wasn’t the first time she found herself wondering why she chose to surround herself with the people she did. Because looking back it was a choice, she could have left at any point, her pathological need to do her job just kept her in place and, hand on heart, she couldn’t let people like this continue to live within society._

_He wasn’t as awful a person as Nathaniel, no one was, but he was definitely close a second. She was listening, she just didn’t look as though she was, but Nathaniel couldn’t honestly believe she was that interested in the petunias growing underneath their bedroom window. Apparently he did because Winter found himself comfortable enough to talk, moderately loudly, about what was going on._

_She often wondered why Sanctuary wasn’t visited more by the police, given how many well known criminals passed through every day but she figured Nathaniel had enough of the legal world in his pocket to keep them away. It made her hate and admire him even more. If he had chosen a different path in life Nathaniel could have actually made a difference, a good one, to the world._

_He had to have someone on the inside, he had to, because Eddie knew the police were building a case against him, he even knew what they had called the operation._

_Then he admitted to the only thing that shouldn’t have surprised her, considering the amount of murder and deceit she’d already lived through. He sounded almost proud when he told Nathaniel, but at the same time reminded her of a child looking to a older person for validation. He hadn’t just come to Sanctuary to brag, he’d come to hear Nathaniel tell him he’d done well. Killing the fiancé of the lead detective was certainly one way to throw a spanner in the works, get the man so grief stricken that he can’t continue with the investigation. It wouldn’t be the end of it but it would give Winter the time he needed to disappear._

“Yeah, but for two centuries. Why is he still hiding?” MacCready asked her as they walked together. Dogmeat was somewhere up ahead of them, weaving in and out of the tall brush as they passed Neponset Park.

“Because this isn’t his world.” _Or mine_. “He’s not a big player any more. All his associates are dead and it’s not like dealing chems is such a big deal anymore.”

“I get that, but locked away for two hundred years? I’d be bored out my head.”

“Knowing that man he took everything of value inside with him and I’m sure his pride for ‘getting away with it’ has kept him entertained enough.”

“I do have one question though.” She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue. “You pick up everything that isn’t nailed or glued down, and we walked into the police station when you dragged me to clear the place over seven months ago. So, my question is, why the hell didn’t you pick it up?”

She laughed to herself, shaking her head slightly, because even after all this time apart they were still so alike; she’d asked herself the exact same question when Nick told them where the last holotape might be.

The detective was sat behind his desk, talking to Ellie when the two of them stepped into his office. She took her pack off her shoulder and rummaged inside for the five holotapes she’d found so far. Evidently Nick hadn’t been idle either, not that she expected him to be, because he pulled four holotapes out of his desk drawer.

One more. That’s all they had to find. Just one.

They were so close she could practically taste it and she suspected Nick could too. He may be a synth, just a carbon copy of the real Nick Valentine but he still had every memory, every feeling, everything the real Valentine had.

The synth tried his hardest to ignore some of Nick’s memories, save the ones that helped him do his job, almost felt as though he was intruding on the man’s life just by knowing about it, because he wasn’t Nick Valentine, not really.

Her coming to his office that day just brought everything he’d ignored to the surface. Sure she never knew Jennifer, or him, and she barely knew Winter but it was strange for him to come to terms with the fact that he was connected to a woman two hundred years out of time.

“Did Nick seem okay to you?” She asked, changing the conversation.

MacCready shrugged. “He seemed like Valentine, how can anyone really tell what’s going on inside his head?”

Her face scrunched up in worry. She knew how important it was to him but she didn’t want the memories he had of Jenny to cloud his rationality, she couldn’t bear the idea of Nick losing himself in a fit of rage.

As they got to the outskirts of Quincy she pulled Deliverer out of its holster; just because they had cleared the place didn’t mean more people had decided to move in.

“You won’t need that,” MacCready told her confidently and she looked at him in curiosity, her head tilting to the side.

Instead of answering her verbally he picked up his pace, grabbing her hand as he did and dragged her into the town. Her mouth fell open automatically, her body froze and her eyes searched in front of her. It was busier than Diamond City market, there were people everywhere, weaving in and out of buildings that weren’t so destroyed anymore.

They walked together, equally fascinated because whilst he knew the Minutemen had taken back Quincy, MacCready was seeing it for the first time too. People went about their day, a few patrolling Minutemen acknowledged him and nodded at her because, not too long ago, after she was worried that too many recognised her, she made the Minutemen stop addressing her when they were in a large body of people. But by nature they couldn’t downright ignore her, so most of them just nodded at her or made some kind of comment in her direction, usually about the weather.

The last thing she needed was people running up to her to say thank you, she didn’t do any of this, and there were definitely enough people to trample her.

It was like Bunker Hill, only about three times bigger. People had set up stands in the road, a few going as far as to trade from inside old stores. A small smile crept over her face, it was people thriving and it was hard not to find the beauty in that.

She was looking around her, fascinated and in awe when she heard someone call behind her.

“Alice!”

She froze, her mouth fell open once more and she looked at MacCready, who was smiling, before turning around. A young ghoul boy in a blue and white striped t-shirt and blue short was running towards her and she swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes blinking as she felt tears forming.

“Oh yeah,” MacCready whispered in her ear. “They got rid of the body too.”

She sucked in her bottom lip as she tried to smile without crying. She opened her arms just in time for Billy to jump into them and wrap his own around her neck as she pulled him into her chest. More time had past than she liked, he’d had another growth spurt, the top of his head almost reached her chin now.

When he broke away from her she caught his beautifully ruined face in her hands and kissed his forehead.

“I missed you too,” he laughed, muffled against her, as she pulled him into another hug, holding him even tighter this time.

Matt and Carol walked up to them and both pulled her into another embrace. For a split second all four of them were hugging each other. A smile crept over MacCready’s face when he saw the joy radiating out of his best friend, it was nice to see her honestly happy again.

This was why he told her joining the Railroad was a bad idea, she said so herself that they had been bugger all help in helping her get as close as she was to finding Shaun, and he hadn’t seen her truly happy since she’d been a part of them. It was at moments like this he hoped she’d switch up her priorities, just a little. It was what made him relatively happy that she was going to see the Brotherhood as General, although he wasn’t too happy about her going at all. But, for the sake of the Commonwealth, she pretty much had to.

Billy grabbed her hand and begged her to let him show her around and MacCready saw her shoulders drop.

“Don’t worry,” he told her as he put his hand on her shoulder, “I got this.”

“Are you sure?”

MacCready’s head fell to the side, still fascinated that she could ask the question only once but mean it a dozen different ways.

“Positive.”

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers ghosting over her wrist as she opened the clasp of her Pip-Boy. She held it out for him to take, keeping hold of it longer than she needed to. She trusted him, she’d given him her Pip-Boy a few times but she’d always been next to him. What if something happened to him, or it?

He reciprocated her smile, though his was more comfortable than hers, said his goodbyes to the Peabody family and headed toward the police station.

She watched him walk away, sighing as appreciation washed over her. He really was the best person ever.

“Okay, Billy. I’m all yours.” The smile that erupted over his face tugged at her heart.

Just as he normally did Billy began throwing dozens of questions at her, where had she been; what had she been doing. He was older, not such a little kid anymore, but she still worried about how much she could tell him. She glanced back at Matt and Carol, silently asking what to do, their response was to walk away and leave them to it. They didn’t mind what she told him, they just didn’t want to hear it.

Of course he was still a kid, she couldn’t tell him _everything_ , she couldn’t tell anyone _everything_ but she could give him the PG version of some things.

“You’re the General of the Minutemen?” He asked excitedly.

She stilled, her face scowling. “Billy!” She hissed.

“Shit, sorry.” His hands clasped over his mouth, his eyes as wide as hers when he realised what he’d said.

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Let’s not tell your mom about this,” she suggested.

“Okay,” he replied, still giggling.

“Besides,” she rubbed the top of his head, “she’ll probably blame me.”

“Probably,” he responded as he batted her hand away.

They walked past one particular store and the suit of power armour in the broken window caught her eye. There was no time like the present and Billy didn’t know about the Glowing Sea.

“Why are we going in here?” He asked as she veered towards the door. “You hate power armour.”

She chuckled silently. Despite herself it was the one thing that seeped into every personality.

“I do, but I also hate radiation. I need advice from a professional.”

And given the fact that the owner was a ghoul, she’d evidently come to right place.

Fifteen minutes later - ten minutes talking to the ghoul behind the counter, five minutes of Billy asking ‘why?’ - they walked back out of the shop.

“Was that helpful?” He asked, turning back to glance at the man behind the counter.

“Kind of.”

It was the truth. Whilst the man could only a hundred percent guarantee she’d be safe in power armour, he did come up with a few suggestions when she colourfully told him it wasn’t an option. It was what she’d been expecting to hear, what she was preparing to do anyway and that was line her jumpsuit. She did have to ask if it would affect the lining that it already had but the shopkeep looked at her like she was insane when she told him what it’s currently lining could do.

“Have you got used to it yet?” She asked, changing the conversation. “Being a ghoul?”

“It’s not really all that different, I can still do most of the things i used to. Though not having to eat takes some getting used to.”

Her head twitched with intrigue. “You don’t need to eat?”

He shook his head, “or drink. But mom still makes dinner every night, habit I guess.”

“But you can still taste it, yeah?”

Carol’s cooking was the only form of a ‘home cooked’ meal she’d ever had and it was always incredible. It would be a shame if the taste was lost to them.

“Oh yeah, it’s still amazing as ever. Though it lacks variety nowadays.”

“I know what you mean.”

They fell into comfortable silence as they headed back to the centre of town. Her mind was preoccupied with wondering if lining her jumpsuit was worth the risk of ruining it when Billy spoke again.

“I’m not a little kid anymore, you know.”

“I know you’re not,” she replied, her brow slightly furrowed because she never said he was.

“I’m also not a complete idiot.”

“I know that too.” Her paced slowed a little, she already had a feeling she knew where the conversation was going and she wanted to delay meeting up with Matt and Carol, knowing neither of them would be happy if they heard the two of them talking about this.

“Then are you gonna tell me why you came to our house in the first place?” She didn’t say anything, didn’t have time to before he was speaking again. “I used to hear them talking, you know, mom and dad…Dad saw something bad didn’t he?”

“He did.” She admitted. “Your mom too.”

“What was it?”

“I’m not completely sure, Billy. The only thing I knew was that you all needed protecting, so that’s what I did.”

“Did you ever kill anyone whilst you were living with us?”

The question physically made her take a step back. “How long have you been thinking about all this?”

“Since mom and dad stopped letting me go any further than the end of the path.”

“So, a while then?” He nodded. She took a deep breath and stood back close to him, landing a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, Billy. You want answers, I’ll give them to you.”

She took a step to the left, he followed, and they took the longer route back to the town centre. She was hoping MacCready was back from the police station by now, he’d distract Matt and Carol for a while.

“Yes, I did, but not even your folks know that,” she added, her hand shaking as a warning not to say anything.

“Why, for five months, could I only go to the end of the path?”

Her nose scrunched automatically, he was right, she’d said so herself, he _wasn’t_ a little kid anymore.

“Remember the day I found you?”

“And you took me back to the house. Oh, then that guy wanted to buy me?”

She laughed, despite herself, because he said it so casually, as if it was something he’d shrugged off already. The resilience of kids.

“Yeah, him. Of course I killed him, I’ve killed everyone whose threatened you, because it’s my job. Someone, who _wasn’t_ me,” she emphasised, “hung his body up as a warning for others to stay away.”

He didn’t say anything, he just continued to walk as he stared out in front of him, eyes bulging.

“Cool.”

Her eyebrow raised at the comment before she smiled. Okay, so maybe he was still a kid.

“Is your name really Alice?” She shook her head when he looked at her. “What is it?”

She blinked, her mind shut down and her body seized. Billy’s mouth tightened, his head flinching back slightly in fear that he’d broken her.

“Did I ask one question too many?” He wondered and she let her head nod just ever so slightly before shaking it, snapping herself out of her shock.

“No…it’s just…I’ve never told anyone.”

Though she suspected there was one person who was working extremely hard to work it out.

“Ever?” She shook her head in response. “Why?”

“Because I’ve never been ‘me’.” She told him, her heart dropping a little.

Billy’s brow furrowed as he absorbed her words.

“Can I know it?” He pleaded, his eyes rivalling Dogmeat’s when he wanted the last bite of something. It got her every time, and the rascal knew it.

She bowed her head so she was directly face to face with him.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” she whispered.

“I promise,” he whispered back, his face and body twitching with excitement.

She leaned forward to whisper low in his ear. It would be the first time she’d be saying it out loud in over two hundred years.

When she moved away Billy was stuck in place, his body rigid, his mouth wide open, his eyes glazed over. A smile began to creep over him as she saw his lips mouth the words she’d just said.

“Where are you going?” He asked, snapping out of his trance. “And don’t lie to me.”

She sighed, frustrated and defeated. “I’ve got myself involved in something really big, and really dangerous.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve got to go into the Glowing Sea, Billy.”

His eyes widened, fear flashed across his face - successfully wiping away the smile he was wearing - and then he asked her something she hadn’t been expecting.

“Want me to go with you?” He squeezed her hand. “I mean, radiation doesn’t hurt me…and you could teach me how to fight.”

She smiled, sighing as she squeezed his hand. “I love you for that, but no, you can’t come with me. This is something I have to do on my own. Besides, if you’re with me, who’s going to look after your parents?”

He half-shrugged, half-nodded. He didn’t want to go, not really, but he didn’t want her to go on her own. Alice had been out of his life more than she’d been in it now. She sure had changed a lot, her hair was different, her eyes were too. But she was still _Alice,_ at least she would always be to him. It didn’t matter who she was to other people, she would always be the person who saved his life; more than once.

_And she used to tell me heroes don’t exist._

When they got back to the centre of town Matt and Carol were waiting for them. Her heart began to race when she realised MacCready was stood with them.

She picked up her pace, dragging Billy with her, who near enough had to run to keep up.

“Did you find it?” She asked, her voice hopeful as she let go of Billy’s hand so his parents could hug him.

MacCready smiled, and with a nod, held up her Pip-Boy with one hand and the holotape in the other. She snatched it out of his grasp and held it between her hands, she looked down at the holotape, a smile creeping over her face.

The last one. The final piece of the puzzle. She could finally bring Valentine some peace.

She wrapped her arms around MacCready’s neck and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear and he squeezed her tighter in response

 

* * * *

 

“Nick, wait,” she whispered as they stood outside the false wall. “Let me do the talking. I promise, you can be the one to kill him,” she added before he could protest.

She had no desire to kill Winter herself, he’d done nothing to her personally, but Valentine wanted revenge and she was a big believer in an eye for an eye.

She stood outside the metal door, no noise coming from within; he’d probably been alerted the moment they opened the wall. For a split second she wondered if he had a camera before knocking on the door. Nobody answered. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let Nora come to the surface.

“Edward James Winter,” forcing her voice up an octave was rougher on her throat than the last time she spoke like Nora, “if you do not open this door right now I swear I will tell Nate!” She gagged as she felt sick to her stomach, she always hated calling him that.

She immediately heard someone rush to the door and she heard the thuds and rattles of the locks. The door burst open and, for a second, her eyes widened at the ghoul in front of her.

She was used to ghouls, having spent more than enough time in Goodneighbor, but it was different when it was someone she knew two hundred years ago.

“Nora? Nora Finlay?” Eddie always was a heavy smoker, to her his voice didn’t sound all that different. She was beginning to wonder if he’d been wearing the same shirt the whole time when he pulled her into a hug and she got her answer.

“Look at you!” His eyes ran down her body and she gently tried to push him away. “You look incredible. Is Nathaniel with you?” He asked, glancing towards the doorway.

She successfully pulled herself away from him.

“No. Nate died, along with everyone else.” She looked sad for less than a second. “But I did find someone you know, well not personally.” He looked at her, curiosity in his eyes. “I should warn you though, he looks a _little different_.”

Knowing his cue Nick walked into the room; Winter’s eyes were drawn to his footsteps.

“What?” He exclaimed, looking between the two of them. “Who the fuck are you?” He asked, turning his attention to Valentine.

“The name’s Valentine. Nick Valentine. Remember me?”

Even underneath her jumpsuit she could feel the hairs on her arms beginning to stand, the electric bubble that started in the base of her skull; adrenaline rushing through her veins. She moved her hands away from her guns…just in case.

“Valentine? The cop?” He glanced at Nora for a moment before looking back at the robot in front of him. “Is that who you’re supposed to be? Sorry pal, but you aint Nick Valentine. You’re just some kind of…machine.”

She breathed heavily through her nose, felt her spin curling as she resisted the urge to lunge at the bastard for that comment. Nick remained as calm and stoic as ever though even she suspected he was having an adrenaline rush all of his own.

“You kill me fiancé, Jennifer Lands. There are some cries even you can’t get away with, Winter.”

“Your fiancé? You mean _Valentine’s_ fiancé?” He pretended to try and remember whom she was. “Pretty girl. A shame what happened to her.”

“But hey, you…or, you know, the _real_ Valentine…he shoulda backed off when he had the chance. But what gives, robot man? Why do you even care? Some girl gets whacked two-hundred years ago, and you come into my home, acting the hard guy? Christ, look at you, you’re not even live.”

“Then I guess I’m in good company.”

All three people in that room shouldn’t have been stood there. Valentine should never have existed and she and Winter should have died two centuries ago along with everyone else.

It happened in the blink of an eye and she dived out of the way of Winter’s first shot. Even more she resisted the urge to use her gun because she was outraged that his first shot had been aimed at her.

_Fucking asshole._

She moved around the room, narrowly avoiding the shots that still found their way towards her. Whether it was just from being a ghoul or the chemicals that made him one she wasn’t sure but Winter was more resilient than she expected. Then again, Nick was doing just fine on his own as well.

If she let it, they could shoot at each other until they ran out of bullets, but she was exhausted, she needed to sleep and, at least for a while, she needed time away from violence.

Seeing what had become of Quincy had made her reminisce about a world she never thought she missed. Perhaps it was just the idea she missed, the life she could have had if she’d never been reassigned. Billy was happy and it helped her stay content but deep down she was still reminded that he spent two-hundred years locked in a fridge, scared and alone. She wondered how many times he had called for her, how long he had spent wondering when she’d find him before giving up on her completely.

That was what she was fighting for, what she’d always been fighting for since she met him. A world where Billy could grow up and be safe. Everyone else was just an added bonus, Billy was always the most important. Billy was worth dying for.

A bullet whizzing past her head snapped her out of her mind and she decided that, although she would let Valentine kill him, she could still shoot her gun and _help_ Valentine kill him.

She pulled Fire out of its holster and aimed it at Winter’s knee. He fell to the ground, screaming, and without saying a word Valentine walked up to him and shot him once in the head, spraying blood and brain matter all over the floor.

“It’s done.” He sighed, staring down at Winter’s body. “There’s one more thing I gotta do.” He told her as he looked up at her.

She had a feeling where Valentine was heading next.

“Jenny’s grave?” She asked in a hushed tone. He nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No thanks, doll, you’ve done enough.” He would have liked the company, but he knew she was going through some stuff too, the sort of thing she needed to stop avoiding. “This is personal, and I owe it to Valentine.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “I love you, Nick.”

She meant it but she felt the need to say it at that exact moment; she was unsure when they’d see each other again and if she didn’t see him before going into the Glowing Sea, she knew she might never see him again.

“I love you too, darling.” He placed his hand on her should, shaking it slightly. “Thank you.”

They left Andrew Station together, parting when Nick headed east and she headed west, back towards HQ.

This was the second to last big mission on the list she’d made of everything she needed to do before leaving to find Virgil. The only thing left was to meet with the Brotherhood, and she still had over a week before that happened. There was no reason for her to go back to Castle before then, her and Preston knew the plan inside and out.

She felt like doing the one thing she hadn’t done since travelling with MacCready, she wanted to visit every settlement she could, she wanted to talk to everyone she possibly could within them. She wanted to surround herself with as much life as possible.

Dogmeat had left with MacCready when they parted outside Diamond City, mostly because she told him to, he whined but listened. She considered going to Goodneighbor to pick up Hancock, see if he wanted a day out of the office again, but that was only because she was ignoring the voice in her head. The one telling her who she wanted travelling with her, the only man to make her cry. The man who ignited every emotion and every feeling that existed, because even though a lot of bad came from travelling with him, there was a lot of good too and it was the latter that made her feel like flying.

At first she was a little shocked to see him standing inside the escape tunnel, right by the door to HQ but then she smiled, figuring he was waiting for her.

She resisted the urge to run up to him, even though her legs wanted to. As she got closer to him she realised that his stance hadn’t changed, his feet were crossed at the ankle, his arms folded over his chest and even though he was wearing sunglasses she could tell he was scowling and avoiding looking at her.

“Deac?” She asked cautiously.

His mouth pouted - resisting the urge to smile at the sound of his nickname - and he peeled himself away from the wall. He saw her take a step back and he tried not to feel bad about that, he needed to concentrate on how pissed off he was.

His hand gripped the metal contraption in his hand, hating the thing and then held it in front of him.

“Here,” he threw the rebreather at her feet.

She bent down to pick it up. “What is it?” she asked.

A tiny wave of…something washed over him. She didn’t know what it was, she hadn’t asked Glory to ask Tom on her behalf.

“Tom calls it a rebreather, it’s a high tec version of a gas mask, supposed to withstand twenty times the amount a regular one can, apparently.” He spoke coldly, keeping every other emotion locked up tight. “Glory told him she needed it for a friend.”

Even in the darkness of the tunnel, her entire body and face covered up, he saw her freeze. He saw the anger, the sadness, the tiniest hint of betrayal but what was the most prominent was her guilt but he couldn’t let it sway him.

“Now, we both know Glory’s only got two friends,” he paused, mainly for dramatic effect. “And it isn’t for me.”

He turned away from her, hoping his expression made him look disappointed instead of terrified, which was how he felt.

_How can I tell her I don’t want her to go?_

She barely registered the door closing, Deacon on the other side. Her eyes were stuck on the ‘rebreather’ in her hand. Glory had done it to be helpful, to do whatever she could because she knew she was going on her own - despite what everyone was telling her - and Glory wanted her to be as safe as possible. It was hard to concentrate on that though, when the other thing she could feel was betrayal.

But she knew it wasn’t a betrayal at all, if anything she was being a friend. To Deacon at least. Glory was doing the one thing she herself was too cowardly to do, she was pushing Deacon towards the answer himself.

They’d barely talked since Sanctuary, a lot had happened - to both of them - and it was easier for them to immerse themselves in everything else than deal with it. But there was only one real reason she knew she had avoided telling him, because she didn’t want to see the look on his face when she told him. The way he’d looked at her then was painful enough.

She had two options, walk through the door and face sheer awkwardness or turn back the way she came. The latter, whilst the most appealing, was the most cowardly of the two and she just couldn’t do it. After everything they’d been through together, after everything they’d put each other through, Deacon wasn’t the sort of person she could run away from.

_I hate Glory._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay yes I left it on a slight cliffhanger, I'm sorry but I honestly didn't know when to end it, I feel like I should have ended it earlier to be honest. Oh well!
> 
> Thanks for reading! x


	45. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whisper and Deacon do something they are used to doing; tell the truth. Whilst Glory walks her way across the Commonwealth, but she's not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate filler chapters, I really do. My hope was just to make this chapter about Glory and make everyone wait (lol) but it fitted in well with what I had Deacon and Whisper doing so I integrated all the ideas and shoved them into one chapter.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM))

_Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time_

 

She walked slowly into the war room, glad everyone was too busy with their own work to acknowledge her, and in the distance she saw the white of Deacon’s t-shirt as it disappeared behind the door that led to the rest of the church. She followed him because she knew she had to.

Deacon walked slow enough for her to follow his direction but he kept his distance, never letting her see all of him. She wondered what he was thinking, if he realised what he was asking of her, and himself. She was going to have to tell him the truth, and he was going to have to hear it.

She walked down one particular corridor on the first floor and lost sight of him. She heard the sound of a door closing and turned to stare at the ominous set of stairs that led to the roof. How she felt walking up them was not unlike how she felt when she walked to the roof of the Memory Den, only a hundred times worse.

Her hand dragged her up the stairs, slamming down on the railing and pulling her up, with every step she took her mind offered her a memory of the times they’d had together and she couldn’t help but wonder just how many they had left.

The cold air hit her and she took in her surroundings. They were at the very top of the church, right where the bell would have been sat all those years ago. Her eyes drifted to the table and the two chairs surrounding it before she looked at Deacon. He was faced away from her, staring out at the early-evening sky; she stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

She was always so cool and casual, knew what to say at any given moment but all of that was lost and forgotten as she stood there with him. His ability to make her feel like a recruit always astounded her.

She wanted nothing more than to sit down, she had been on her feet for the better part of two days. She only came back to sit down for five minutes before heading out again. She had been hoping Deacon would want to tag along with her. This was the last thing she’d been expecting or wanting.

Cautiously she took a step forward, freezing when he spoke.

“I could have helped,” he told her without turning to look at her. “You could have told me.”

She was immediately frozen by how quickly he’d spoken his mind and then she heard the hurt in his voice, she must really have done a number on him and she wished she was brave enough to tell him she was sorry.

“I didn’t ‘tell’ Glory,” she defended as she stepped closer, “she was just _there_ when Mama Murphy had a vision.” Stupid woman and her stupid visions.

Some of the annoyance he felt evaporated. He’d made an assumption, let it cloud his head - like everything else with Whisper - and he was unsure if he could turn around to look at her. She was still going after all, and now he would worry that every time he looked at her would be the last.

“We were dealing with the Curie ‘situation’ when I asked Amari for advice about radiation.” That was her own fault, she could have left the question for another day but she thought the present was as good a time as any, even though she went to Goodneighbor almost every day

“What do you need to know? Other than the fact that it will _kill_ you?” His voice cracked at the word, and he knew she’d heard it. Her voice wasn’t doing all that well either.

“How to stop it from doing that,” she looked down at the device in her hand, the corners of her mouth twitching because, despite dropping her in the shit, Glory had given it as a present, even if Tom was the one whom made it.

“Why?” He suddenly asked, turning around slowly.

“Why do I need to go in there?” She assumed that was his question. He nodded as he folded his arms across his chest.

He was trying to make himself look angry but the only thing she could see was pain, the torment that was written over every part of him. He could hide it from everyone else, but not her. And she knew he could say the same thing when it came to her. 

She contemplated his question, went as far as opening her mouth before closing it again. Telling MacCready was hard, Billy even harder but she had a feeling that nothing would compare to telling Deacon and seeing his reaction when she did.

“Do you want to know?” She asked sincerely, the truth was dangerous territory for both of them. 

He took a moment to debate with himself before nodding.

“Not long after Vault 111, Kellogg was tasked with finding an escaped Institute scientist by the name of Virgil, where is there a better place to hide?” She asked him, because she wanted him to think about it, do the one thing no one else - besides Preston - could do. She knew he’d see the logical side of it, just like she did.

“So there’s no _physical_ evidence proving this Virgil is actually in there?”

Both of them were working extremely hard not to say the words out loud, exactly _where_ she was going.

She shook her head. “Just the memories of a dead mercenary and my own gut instinct.”

“Has your gut ever been wrong before?” It hadn’t, as far as he was concerned, but she’d had a whole other life (several in fact) before he came along.

“Not when it comes to a mission.” Her life on the other hand was another story entirely.

“Who are you taking with you?” He wondered, pretty sure he already knew the answer.

She moved away just a fraction, tried to rid her voice of at least _some_ emotion.

“You know, everyone is obsessed with asking me that; no one.” She raised her hand before Deacon could protest. “I won’t let more people risk getting hurt because of me.”

“But this isn’t just about you,” he reminded her.

“I know it’s not.” That was what annoyed her, if it was just ‘her fight’ then she would have been inside the place already, but there were too many factors now. “But I can’t entrust this mission to anyone else. I know the Institute have hurt a lot of people, but they hurt me first.” 

“Were you ever going to say anything?”

She knew what he was really asking, either way the answer was the same.

“When I came up with a plan,” which she near enough had.

She watched as he began to pace up and down the small length of floor, she remained silent and leant against the wall, continuing to watch him talk to the voices in his head, not loud enough for her to hear the conversation but she could see his mouth moving.

After thirty-seconds she shifted uncomfortably, they couldn’t just spend the evening doing this. One of them had to do something. She pulled down her bandana, brushed the wig off her head as she peeled herself off the wall and stood in front of him as he turned to pace again.

“Deac.” He stopped but couldn’t look at her, he even made a point of turning his head away and she swallowed the lump in her throat. _Okay, that hurt_. “I have to go.”

He knew that. He knew any agent with a lead like that had to follow it, regardless of what faction they belonged to. 

_Speaking of which…_

“Who are you going as?” He was grateful that his sunglasses shielded his eyes from the glow emanating from her hair. The sky wasn’t completely dark so it wasn’t as bright as usual, just low enough to look like a burning candle.

She raised an eyebrow at his question, unsure what he was asking.

“You know, are you going as General, Whisper or the Brotherhood’s newest recruit?”

“Is this about that letter? Look, he wrote to the General of the Minutemen and I responded as that. In terms of the Glowing Sea,” she saw his mouth shrug in sadness at the term and tried not to think about how it broke her heart. “I’m not going associated with any of you. I’m just a woman trying to track down the people who kidnapped a baby.” As far as everyone else was concerned she was a mother looking for her son, and she needed it to stay that way. Just in case the Institute _were_ watching her.

“So you’re having secret meetings with the Brotherhood now?”

“What-“ she was tongue tied, amazed at how quickly his mood changed. “I haven’t met with them once yet, and when I do I’ll be going as General of the Minutemen, by all rights I don’t have to tell Desdemona anything.”

“We’re not talking about Dez and your weird little cat fight. You could have told _me_.”

“When?” she outburst before she could stop herself. She understood he was hurt, but did he really have to be this childish? “When I was putting Curie in a synth? When you were unconscious in a cave? When we were searching for the perfect safehouse for the Railroad? Or when we-“ she stopped her train of thought, closing her eyes as she tried desperately not to think about it. They’d gone this long without talking about it, it was easier to pretend it never happened. She took a deep breath, gathering herself. “Daisy gave me his last letter when I went to see her, that was why I went to Castle. It was only _then_ that I ultimately agreed to meet with him.”

“There’s no way you’ve been at Castle this whole time,” he knew her, knew she couldn’t stay in one place for very long.

“I haven’t,” she admitted, no emotion in her voice. Admitting where she’d been would involve mentioning Winter and she knew Deacon would recognise the name and it would show she’d figured out she hadn’t been dreaming. He’d no doubt worked out a while ago that she had realised but, like everything else, they never talked about it. “I helped Valentine with a case.” She saw his jaw fall, just ever so slightly, and knew he knew what case. “I only-I only came back here to get you.” Her face flinched as she told the truth, exposing part of the wall she always kept between them. She and Deacon worked better if they didn’t think or talk about their feelings for each other, whatever they were.

Deacon’s heart dropped in his chest whilst the corners of his mouth twitched. Whisper always had the amazing ability to twist a situation and make him feel guilty, and he was trying not to smile because he was meant to be pissed at her.

But she’d come back just for him. He cleared his throat and recomposed himself.

“Well,” his hand was on his neck before he could stop it and he cursed himself as he pried it away. “I usually expect flowers on a date.”

She chuckled immediately, closing her eyes in contentment because they were done being honest with each other. Deacon needed to distance himself, protect himself with jokes and she was happy enough to let it happen, she wanted to forget that conversation had even happened.

“I couldn’t find any that reflect just, how _pretty_ you are,” she joked back, drawing out the last few words, smiling wide when he pretended to blush. “I’ve got a box of Fancy Lads,” she threw on strap of her pack off her shoulder, swinging it around to open the top and pull out the box. She held it between her thumb and finger, dangling it out in front of him. “You know, if you’re interested?”

Her eyebrow raised in a challenge he couldn’t resist.

He snatched the box away, smiling at her as he ripped open the box and stuffed two cakes into his mouth.

“Where we going?” he asked, his mouth full.

She grimaced at the crumbs that left his mouth, but still found herself laughing. She was ignoring the question of how many laughs they had left.

“Nowhere in particular, thought I’d make the rounds with a few settlements, check everything’s okay.”

“Sounds cool.” He nodded as he swallowed. A light bulb went off in his head, one he externally ignored, Whisper was checking in on her settlements, meeting with the Brotherhood, helping Valentine with his case…

_She’s trying to get as much done as possible._

Because she knew there was a possibility she might never get the chance.

He wondered if she had said her goodbyes to people already, and when his was coming.

* * * *

Travelling along Minutemen routes was interesting but walking the street was where it was at; at least for Glory. Nobody liked to talk about it, and she and Deacon didn’t talk much these days, but Glory loved the thrill of a fight, the pumping of adrenaline, the complete certainty of death. Every time she survived she found herself more appreciative of life, and her freedom. It was her main reason for sticking with the Railroad, her and all the other synths shared something in common, like the worst extended family ever. She owed it to herself to protect as many as she could.

Glory stood in the middle of the alleyway, groaning at the pressure of the mini-gun as she shot down two mongrel dogs. She’d like to see a real human carry a mini-gun on their back all day long, and without power armour. She sighed when they were dead, she had to watch her shots. It was still a few hours until she got to Griswold, she needed to conserve ammo.

That thought was pushed out instantly when she heard the shout of a super mutant. Glory panicked for less than a second before huffing her mini0gun and turning around in the direction of the sound.

“…find milk of human kindness…”

At the phrase Glory dropped her gun and the super mutant froze as it spotted her.

“So much walking.” He groaned, tired. “Want to do more fighting!”

As he whined Glory found herself feeling sorry for him. She knew how he felt. She couldn’t exactly take him _inside_ Griswold, but how many times in her life could she say she travelled with a super mutant?

“Okay, Strong. Let’s go find you something to fight.”

He groaned pleased and rested his club on his shoulder.

It was nice not to have to lift her gun that much, if she were being honest. She could handle the weight but it was a killer on the arms. Strong ‘scouted’ ahead, knocking away everything in his path and he’d normally ripped most of their heads off before she got anywhere close to him. It wasn’t quite the action packed journey she’d been hoping for but it was still one of a kind. There was still the question of what to do with him when she got to the safehouse, Griswold weren’t as trigger happy as the guys in the Old Church, so they wouldn’t shoot him on sight but she’d be pushing her luck if she walked inside with him.

It had taken them months to recover after those raiders hit, they lost a lot of good people and, emotionally, they're still recovering, much like the guys back in the Old Church. But the show must go on, as Deacon would say; there were still people out there who needed help.

Glory hadn't been back to Griswold since the whole G5 fiasco but, despite that lingering in the air, it was nice to see everyone again. Several saw her arrive on camera, applauding and condemning her for her choice of companion. She shrugged it off, like she did most things, it wasn't like they knew Strong, neither did she, but she knew he wouldn't eat her. Plus, it was nice to be around something not so human for a change, it was bad enough getting wrapped up in the problems of strangers, let alone the people closest to her.

She did feel like somewhat of a shitty friend, dropping Whisper in it like that, but she getting sick of the lies. She knew lying came with the job, especially when Deacon was involved, but the two of them had taken it to a whole new level. It was fun in the beginning, before feelings got involved. In hindsight it was predictable that the two of them would end up falling for each other, it was just frustrating how long it was taking them to admit it. Glory wondered if she would live long enough to see it happen.

But enough about them, the whole point of leaving HQ was to get away from them and Glory was determined to get back to her roots. And, also, kill a load of shit.

Strong seemed to calm down on the way back, holding back a little so Glory could get in her fair share of kills, for which she was grateful. They reached on understanding, Strong would weaken them and she would finish them off. Aside from a few random, often misplaced, observations Strong didn't say a lot, mostly just grunted. It made a nice change, humans (mostly Deacon) seemed to have the obsessive need to fill any silence with mindless drivel.

* * * *

A few settlements, she said, a few. In Deacon’s world that meant three or four, maybe five at a push. Apparently in the world of Whisper it meant every settlement they came across, and she took them down a route designed to go past as many as possible. He should have really read the fine print before agreeing.

They barely said a word to each other as they headed south. It was the first settlement she wanted to check - Somerville Place. Whisper had learnt a long time ago that attacks were more frequent in settlements further south and this particular settlement was closer to the southern border of the Commonwealth than any of them. The house belonged to Frank, where he lived with his two kids, Tom and Alicia.

Deacon had no real desire to travel the Commonwealth and talk to vast amounts of people but he wasn’t sure how much time he and Whisper had left and he didn’t want to waste a single minute of it. If this was what she wanted to do Deacon was just happy she wanted him there with her, because she _did_ want him there, she admitted she came back for the sole purpose of getting him. It was hard to stay mad when he remembered that.

Deacon had always made a point of avoiding kids, ever since Little Lamplight, and for this _exact_ reason. Tom seemed alright, head in the clouds a little but Alicia was _terrifying_ , especially for someone who couldn’t be older than thirteen. At first he laughed at her snide comments about being eaten alive but then she told him, that if he planned to stay the night, he better sleep with one eye open and the look on her face had him almost pissing himself.

“Their mom died a few years ago, attacked by raiders.” Whisper told him as they walked away. “Frank withdrew into himself, Tom’s still young. Alicia just, sort of, took it upon herself to be the tough one in the family.”

After telling him that Whisper didn’t say another word, neither of them could think of what to say to one another. Deacon wanted to pretend the conversation on the roof never happen, that she hadn’t said the words ‘Glowing Sea’.

They continued north along the safe road, popping to every settlement along the way, and a few drop-by points the Minutemen had created. Deacon stayed a step or two behind, watching her, wondering what she was thinking.

She knew more about her settlers than he realised, heard and could recite near enough everyone’s backstory - most of them tragic - and genuinely seemed to care. She listened to their problems, promising to send word to help with what she couldn’t fix herself, and she remembered everyone by name.

He didn’t mind listening to her talk about them, her eyes would light up and her voice was full of so much passion it was as if everything had actually happened to _her_ , not the people she was discussing. Deacon couldn’t remember the last time he saw her that happy and he couldn’t help but smile

They’d reached as far as Abernathy farm before she suggested they stay, immediately regretting the idea when Deacon shifted uncomfortably.

“Or we can just head back?”

It was his preferred choice but Deacon quickly reminded himself that it wasn’t about him, and Whisper _knew_ these people, it was one of _her_ settlements - he was in the safest place possible. But it wasn’t safety that concerned him, no, Deacon was rather used to living life on the edge, it was his fear of being alone with her. Granted he’d just spent the entire evening doing just that but it was a completely different story - at least in his head - when it came to sleeping. They hadn’t slept anywhere near each other since their adventure to Outpost Zimonja, but that offered more space, and Deacon was unaware, at the time, Whisper was planning a suicide mission.

Because that’s what it was, no matter how he looked at it, whatever way he span it the notion was the same. She was planning to walk into the one place no one came back from. Deacon didn’t know that for a _fact_ but he felt as though logic and reasoning were on his side (for once). Statistically she was more likely to never step foot out of there once going in.

“Deacon?”

He didn’t answer, just stayed staring out in front of him, but she waited, let his brain do what it needed to do, and stood there until he caught up with reality. He did, making her jump when she gently touched his arm.

As soon as it was gone he missed it.

“Sorry, were you talking? I just kinda drown you out after a while.”

She laughed, concentrating on the fact he was joking rather than the tiny sting of hurt she initially felt.

“So, which is it?” She wondered. “Are we camping out for the night or are we running back so you can sleep with your mommy?” She teased, a trace of venom leaking through.

Deacon’s jaw dropped at the insult for less than a second before playing along. Like so many things he _did_ start this.

“You know, I wouldn’t make that joke all the time if she didn’t act like it. But what about you? I thought you’d be missing Glory, only Atom knows what you two get up to in the privacy of your own tunnel.”

There was a sudden shift in the air and she turned, slowly. He tried to keep eye contact but his gaze kept falling away because she’d taken her sunglasses off and, even though he was wearing his, he could feel her gaze penetrate him.

“Oh, Deacon.” He watched her hand, flinching as it moved toward him, unsure of its destination; he was almost relieved when it landed on his arm. “You know _exactly_ what we’re doing i that tunnel.”

Her voice was so suggestive, her eyes glazed over as if she were reminiscing and Deacon swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, wondering if it were true.

A wide, beautiful smile spread across her face and Deacon’s eyes landed on the perfect run of white teeth he forgot he liked so much. Then again, he like everything about her.

“Come on, it’s clear tonight; I’d like to sleep outside.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she had, it was over a month at least. Her body had become complacent sleeping on a moderately soft bed, it would be nice to get back to her roots, even if, strictly speaking, she didn’t know what they were.

Deacon watched as she dropped her sleep bag on the ground, pushing it so it unrolled over the grass and place her pack at the top, against the decking of Abernathy’s home. He continued to watch her as Blake Abernathy came out, sleeping bag and sheet in hand, and passed them to her. Whisper thanked him, the man nodded respectfully at Deacon and then headed back inside. Only then did he notice she was laying the second sleeping bag close to the first, a damn sight closer than it should be between two people who have…

_Done nothing_. He reminded himself. _We’ve done nothing._

* * * *

Clearing out Vault 95 would be a walk in the park for the synth and the super mutant, considering radiation wasn't a factor for either of them. Her only job was to gather intel, as it would make a _useless_ safehouse, but because it was as close to the Glowing Sea as they could get without going inside, and maybe she could do a little research for Whisper.

_It's crazy how the world works_ , she laughed,. There she was trying to get away from her friends, but life was pulling her in their direction anyway.

Strong rushed past her, shouting his war cry to 'end all humans' and began crashing his way through the crowd of raiders. Glory began to jog, peeling her minigun off her back. She shouted, deep within her belly as she sprayed bullets through the air. By the time the outside was clear Strong had run inside, chasing the raiders who ran toward the commotion. Glory breathed in the smell of a fight and ran inside, following the super mutant with a smile on her face.

The walkway was painted crimson, huge footprints outlined in blood paved the way for her and she panicked at the sound of a machine gun. Strong roared louder, enraged, and she heard the blood-curdling creams of more raiders. She was doing the ones crawling along the floor a favour by killing them. She definitely didn't want to get on the wrong side of Strong.

She let the super mutant smash his way through the Vault as Glory made her way toward the Overseer's office. The good thing about being a synth was that Glory found it ridiculously easy to hack a terminal, doing so almost as quickly as P.A.M. The terminals didn't tell her much, only gave her an idea of what it was designed to do, but the synth didn't hesitate to select the option to open the Facilities wing. She whistled loudly for Strong before opening the sliding door.

Glory heard the super mutant seconds before she saw him, her mouth shrugging and her head nodding in approval when she realised he was covered in blood. She opened the door and gestured down the corridor.

"Wanna go first?" she asked rhetorically, laughing when the super mutant bounded past her. "I'll take that as a yes."

Further down in the Vault she found several rooms with beds and two more with terminals. She was reading the last log on one of them when Strong came back to find her.

"Human come," he grunted. "Strong found something maybe helpful."

Curious, Glory stood up from the terminal and followed him deeper into the Vault.

They weaved through dozens of corridors before the super mutant came to an abrupt stop and pointed to a door. Glory stepped through, not entirely sure what she was looking at. Behind a glass panel was a gnarly looking chair, needles pointing directly at it, tubes and wires surrounding it.

Glory's gaze was drawn to the terminal, the phrase 'DETOX FACILITY' screamed at her but she learnt never to trust a Vault - prewar people got up to some messed up crap. Her guess what that it was designed to cure chem addiction and she couldn't help but wonder what Deacon's reaction would be if he knew about this place, he'd start sending people via vertibird immediately.

It was another hour before Glory decided she'd gathered all the intel she could, and she and Strong made their way back to Griswold. The moon was high in the sky, it would still be another few hours before she got back to HQ, she was hoping the two of them had talked by then, or even better, hoped neither of them were there and they were travelling together.

Strong begun to complain about being hungry on the way back, to shut him up Glory took him through a high wooded area in the hopes of finding him a molerat, or six. They didn't quite find that, though they did find something far bigger and far more dangerous.

It sprung up from nowhere, Glory didn't even realise it was there until it roared. At least it was just the one deathclaw this time, Glory found herself thinking. Strong seemed to be enjoying himself though.

"Come, deathclaw. Strong will teach you how to die!"

The super mutant provided the perfect distraction and because Strong did most of the killing, she had ample bullets. They tore though the belly of the deathclaw as Strong continued to pummel it with his fists.

_Not even Deacon will believe this,_ she laughed as the two of them tore through the deathclaw. When it was dead Strong looked at her, his face and fists covered in blood, and roared in triumph. Feeling the urge Glory roared back, laughing at herself.

She felt guilty leaving Strong at the bottom of Trinity Tower again but she didn't know where else to take him. Whisper eventually wanted to take him to Sanctuary, Glory did consider it but she doubted the people of Sanctuary would remember her. Besides, it's something the two of them were planning to do together.

* * * *

Deacon laid silent and awkward as he stared up at the sky, unsure where else to look. Whisper had laid down immediately, folded her arms behind her head and hadn’t stopped staring at the night sky since. For the few seconds he did watch her Deacon saw her mouth moving and figured she was either counting or naming stars, knowing her it was both.

Whisper sighed deeply and slowly Deacon turned his head to look at her.

“Have I ever told you why I like the stars so much?” She asked without looking at him. “I don’t think I’ve told anyone, no one’s really asked me.”

He remained silent, unsure if he was actually invited to this conversation or if she were talking to herself. “You can’t see it here, but back home there’s a single star that burns brighter than all the rest. It was said to guide lost soldiers back home.”

And so Deacon listened as she recounted her first, what she referred to as a ‘dump’ mission. Dropped off in the middle of nowhere and told to make it to the nearest city - no directions, no map, nothing to help her. And Deacon thought kids in the Commonwealth had it tough. 

It was easy for him to forget that she had a whole life before he met her, he often forgot he had one too, and it was difficult not to be enamoured by her, given how easily she could have fallen down the other side. Considering her skill set she could have become a criminal, or worse, she could have joined the Brotherhood.

“What about you?” Her voice was clearer that time, closer. 

Out of his peripheral he realised she was laying on her side, her arm keeping her head propped up as she looked at him.

“What about me what?” He cleared his throat as he folded his arms behind his head.

“Where’s home for you?” Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper and she moved to fold her arms in front of her, shuffling her body to rest her chin on her forearm. “What are the origins of Deacon?”

“Well,” he lowered his voice to match hers, sitting up for a moment as he readjusted himself on the sleeping bag. He caught sight of the blanket draped over Whisper’s legs before shuffling down to put his face dangerously closer to hers. “Much like Whisper, Deacon was born in the Commonwealth. He’s young, still in his infancy.”

“Explains why he’s so immature all the time,” she interrupted.

“He’s easily swayed,” he defended with a shrug. “He didn’t come around until the Switchboard got hit,” he admitted. Everyone, including himself, had forgotten who he was before he was Deacon.

“So he’s been a lot of people then?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“As many as Whisper?” He retorted, raising his own eyebrow in challenge.

She laughed lightly, burying her face in her arms. She continued to laugh as she lifted her head, then sighing deeply as her eyes drifted off to the right.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked. Deacon looks at her and, in the low glow of the oil lamp behind them he saw her face furrow, as if she was actually asking herself if she should tell him. Of course she could, they both knew that.

He didn’t respond, just looked at her and waited. She didn’t look at him as she spoke, too terrified to let him see the vulnerability in her eyes.

“I’m scared.”

Her words cut through the air, barely audible. Deacon shifted uncomfortable on the sleeping bag, it was the last thing he’d been expecting to hear, mainly because he never expected her to admit it.

“Of the dark? Yeah, I get that, it is _pretty_ scary.”

She laughed light-heartedly at his attempt to make her anxiety, as well as his own.

“Especially when you can’t see the enemy coming.” She stretched, rolling onto her back and laid her head on his stomach. He froze for less than a second before his body got used to it, and it did pretty quickly considering every part of him liked having her touch him.

“Don’t worry,” Deacon spotted her hands playing with each other restlessly on her stomach. He unfolded the arm closest to her and stretched it down her body, doubting himself before giving in and placing his hand over her busying ones. “I’ll protect you,” he squeezed.

_For as long as I can._

He heard the smile in her sigh and she gently squeezed back.

“I’ll protect you too,” she promised as she pulled his arm over her chest and rolled over to curl her body away from him, the gentle movement of his chest as he breathed rocking her to sleep.

It wasn’t until her breathing levelled out that Deacon realised she’d fallen asleep and then it took him another second to realise he couldn’t move, didn’t really want to if he were being honest. Her hat pushed away from her head when she moved, a line of blinding light peaking out, he glanced at the door to Abernathy’s house whilst a hand corrected the position of her hat. He could only imagine her panic if someone saw it and decided to keep his hand where it was. Just in case.

 

* * * *

 

Glory could have done with staying out a bit longer but no doubt Dez was pulling her hair out by now. The synth took it as a good sign that neither Deacon or Whisper were in HQ. The rebreather was sat on her mattress and Glory smiled, at least neither of them broke it in anger.

Glory sat down on her mattress with a groan, exhausted but weightless. So the mission may have had nothing to do with the Institute, or synths, but she got to rid the Commonwealth of a few vermin and she got to take the newest pet out for a walk. Who knows, with enough time spent around people, Strong might be just the asset the Railroad need.

The Brotherhood were the hot topic of Griswold, a few patrols had been spotted but they weren't posing any real threat, at least not yet. Glory mentioned to Connor, their leader, that Dez hadn't mentioned it once, to which the young man replied that he wasn't surprised; Dez focused on nothing but synths unless something posed a direct threat. It was bad enough living it, it was humiliating to know other safehouses thought the same.

Glory wondered if Whisper was going to bother telling Dez about the Glowing Sea, by her own right she didn't have to and Glory could understand if she chose not to. She really doubted Dez would do anything useful with the information. As she laid back on her mattress Glory contemplated taking her to Connor, he might know something that could help her.

The synth was seconds away from sleep when a shadow loomed over. Cranking one eye open she looked up at the outline of Dr. Carrington, probably the last person she wanted to see.

"What the fuck do you want?" she groaned, rolling on her side, away from him.

"Word around headquarters is Tom built some kind of contraption."

Glory's gaze immediately fell to the device of Whisper's mattress, she was hoping Carrington would think it was some kind of collar.

"Then why are you waking me?" she moaned, rolling on her side, away from him.

"Because, when I ask everyone else, they are mysteriously naive to it."

"Then ya'd better add another name to that list," she shrugged, resisting the urge to kick him.

Carrington hadn't gained enough respect with her for her to tell him. It wasn't any of his business as far as shewas concerned.

"Why don't you try asking Tom?" she yawned, closing her eyes and willing him to fuck off.

"That crazy fool is one experiment away from killing us all."

"Then you'd better go stop him before he creates the next atomic bomb," which was another polite way of telling him to fuck off.

Glory could feel him glaring at her but she stayed faced away from him, her eyes tightly closed. She didn't open them again until she heard him walk away. As soon as the tunnel was clear Glory rolled on to her back and caught the rebreather with her foot and slid it up the mattress, her hand gliding it under Whisper's pillow. She put it down as another thing Whisper needed to thank her for, if she wasn't too busy being pissed at her. Glory also made a note of remind Tom about keeping shit to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for being here. You guys rock!


	46. Me Against The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of the Commonwealth react to the news that their General is meeting with the Brotherhood and she's not entirely prepared for their opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As time goes on, I slightly regret choosing to use a song as the title for each chapter, I've got loads of ideas, loads of music, but I need more. So if anyone has some amazing music they would love to recommend, I'm up for any suggestion!
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Me Against The World - Simple Plan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6JvQZpDHws))

_Let no such man be trusted._

 

Deacon didn’t recall falling asleep but as the sound of people working woke him he’d never felt more comfortable. He felt the weight on top of him as it shifted and without checking with his brain, his arms made the decision to wrap themselves around it. He heard someone sigh contently before the weight squeezed him back. Knowing what the sudden weight was immediately he hesitated to open his eyes, as if the slightest movement would wake her. He righted her hat once more as he scanned the area. The Abernathy family were on the other side of the arm, planting crops. The sun was higher in the sky than he expected it to be, figuring both of them had a lot of sleep to catch up on and the Abernathy’s didn’t want to bother them.

_Kinda sweet of them really._

Deacon spotted her sunglasses on the ground nearby, Whisper groaned when he tried reaching for them.

“Hey, Whisper,” he hissed, trying hard to wake her gently. “You gotta move.” She moaned, shuffling slightly before squeezing him tighter, pressing herself against him. “Kinda not what I meant.” _Still nice though_.

He strained to grab her sunglasses, groaning frustratedly at himself when they slipped from his fingers, pushing them even further away.

“Seriously?”

“Oh, come on, you almost had it.” Her eyes were closed but she sounded as if she’d been awake longer than he had. She opened one eye as she smiled coyly at him. They continued to look at each other for a moment longer before Whisper tore her gaze away and reached for her sunglasses, quickly putting them on her face before sitting up with a groan.

She massaged the stiffness in her neck as she sat up and looked around.

“You let me sleep in,” she stated, feeling the heat of the late morning sun.

“Thought you’d need the beauty sleep,” he retorted, sitting up with his legs bent. “You’ve been letting yourself go a little.” He poked out his tongue, blowing a raspberry at her as he pinched the non-existent fat on her waist.

She laughed, instinctively flinching away from him.

She felt almost…lighter, and she couldn’t remember the last time she slept so well, or felt that safe. No nightmares, no restless tossing and turning. Just nothing. She watched Deacon as he stretched his legs, knowing she had him to thank. For a lot of things.

Yesterday was nice, she definitely felt reconnected to him, but today they had to get back to normal. She couldn’t remember the last time they did a mission for the Railroad, she had no plans to go back but she figured Deacon was missing his family. Plus, the last thing she wanted to do was take him to Sanctuary. They couldn’t ever go back to Sanctuary together.

Deacon stood and watched her, brain going a million miles an hour. She didn’t want to spend whatever time she had left sitting in the dark. He couldn’t blame her really, at least the outside world offered some form of entertainment. But he knew he couldn’t stay away for too long; Dez would pull her hair out. Whisper would let him do what he had to, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He _wanted_ to spend every last minute with her.

She made a decision and jumped to her feet.

“So, shall we start heading back?”

Deacon’s eyebrows show up past his sunglasses. That was unexpected. 

“You wanna go back to HQ?” he asked in a tone that showed his disbelief.

“If that’s where you wanna go,” she shrugged. “But I’ll be in Goodneighbor. It’s been, like, a whole three days since I’ve been there, Daisy’s probably freaking out,” she laughed.

“I could come with you.” His voice cracked, making it sound like a question. He cleared his throat and internally called himself a dick.

_Real smooth._

“That’s okay, it’s probably better that you don’t. People might start talking about us,” she joked and punched him in the arm.

Deacon chuckled half-heartedly as his hand reached up to rub his arm. Whisper’s mouth stretched, realising she’d hurt him.

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

She nodded. _We’re going to be okay._

It would have been easier to tell him the truth, rather than double back on herself, but they were done being honest with each other. Plus, she wasn’t lying about going to Goodneighbor, she promised Daisy she would visit whenever she was in the area, and according to Daisy, that expanded to the entire city of Boston.

Subconsciously, she was listening to every pointless word that spewed from Deacon’s mouth but consciously she was focused on the caravan thirty yards in front of them. It wasn’t a rare sight, especially along with route, but she’d never seen one so heavily packed before. The brahmin looked set to drop dead on his feet from exhaustion.

Along with their usual wears, she noticed three large brown sacks in the middle of the cart. Again, not exactly a rare occurrence but it was the exact same amount of sacks she’d seen squeezed into Daisy’s shop. The only thing that made her conclude it was a coincidence was the simple fact that it was impossible for the caravan to make its way to Goodneighbor, chat with Daisy and be able to travel this far ahead of her.

Whomever came up with the old-world notion that only women could multitask had obviously never come across someone like Deacon before, because whilst his mouth was moving, along with his feet, his eyes - hidden behind his sunglasses - were watching Whisper as she stared at the caravan ahead of them, her gaze intense enough to probably set the thing on fire.

There were a few more settlements, and a dozen unofficial ones, she hadn’t gone to yet, but she crossed it off the mental list she’d made. There were still hundreds of little things she wanted to do, but there were a couple of big things too. Like find out more about Vault 95. She had just over two weeks to find out as much as she could. Only when she was completely certain it would work, would she take Cait there. Maybe Deacon too. Because it was right on the edge of the Glowing Sea and it wouldn’t make sense to travel all the way there and come back again. Curing Cate might be the last thing she ever did.

She could put it off, like she’d already been doing, she could just let the world carry on the way it was going, and just fight to survive on a daily basis. She didn't mind doing that, she was used to it, but it was unfair to expect the rest of the Commonwealth to do the same. Though the Commonwealth didn’t mind her being the only one actively trying to destroy them. She knew that was strictly true, there were plenty of people to put an end to the Institute, she just felt as though she was the only one actually doing anything.

Deacon liked to think he was rather intelligent, could read people rather quickly and, more often than not, could tell what they were thinking. All that skill, however, meant absolutely bugger all when it came to Whisper. He could take a few, well educated guesses as to what she was thinking but even he could tell she was jumping from one subject to another, her brain putting all its faith in her legs to keep her moving in a straight line.

They parted before they reached the gate and Deacon headed off in the direction of HQ. The hug was nice, the emptiness that came afterwards, not so much. In complete honesty, she’d all but forgotten he was there. He didn’t moan about being ignored, which was more than could be said for MacCready. Her best friend may not completely understand, but she knew Deacon did. She smiled, grateful to have him on her side again.

“Sunshine,” greeted one of the two ghouls still stationed outside the gate.

“Is he ever going to stop you doing this?” She asked both of them.

“I doubt that. Once Hancock sets his mind on something, there’s no convincing him otherwise.”

“But if someone could,” she smiled coyly.

“Hey, if you manage to get us back inside, I’ll buy you every drink you have in the Third Rail,” the other ghoul offered.

“Deal,” she nodded and headed inside.

She opened the door to Daisy’s shop, knocking into it slightly as it refused to open beyond its halfway point.

“Daisy?” she called into the shop.

“One second!” came the familiar voice.

On the other side of the door she could hear grunting and a few pained groans as Daisy moved whatever was blocking her path.

“Sunshine,” she smiled, blowing away the strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face.

“Everything okay?” she asked as she stepped over the threshold. Her eyes immediately fell on the sacks upon sacks covering the floor of the ghoul’s shop. “Daisy, what is all this?” she wondered, gesturing the dozens of brown sacks littering the floor of her shop.

“Oh, they’re just waiting to be delivered,” Daisy waved off the issue, making her raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but to _where_?” Something this big would be going to one of her settlements, of that she was certain, but she’d just spent the last day going around almost every settlement, they would have told her if someone was in _this_ much trouble.

“To the people it needs to go to.”

“Wha- ‘The people it needs to go to’? Daisy, what sort of excuse is that?”

“A terrible one,” the ghoul admitted, standing in place. She sighed and put down the items in her hand, knowing she was only carrying them around to distract herself from this conversation.

“So,” she leant on the counter, cradling her head in her hand as she looked Daisy in the eye. “Where are they all going?”

“To Castle,” she sighed, she was hoping to keep it from her. She knew this sort of thing would happen, even warned Sunshine to expect it, but not even Daisy thought it would be this extreme.

“To Castle?” she repeated. “Why?” She took herself off the counter and made her way to the closest sack, not sure what she would find inside.

Her brow raised in confusion as she stared down at the hundreds of letters stuffed inside. Curiosity getting the better of her, she delved inside and picked one out. It was handwriting she didn’t recognise, though as she looked at all the other sacks she knew there would be a lot of letters from people she hadn’t ever spoken to.

“‘To the General of the Minutemen.’” To sate her curiosity she picked out a few more letters, throwing them on the floor behind her, each one addressed to the ‘General of the Minuteman’, a few even going as far as to call her ‘Sunshine’.

“They’re…” she looked once more at the overflowing sacks that littered the floor. “They can’t _all_ be for me, surely?”

Daisy nodded slowly, her eyes diverting away.

She finally braved opening one, ripping the envelope open at the top and carefully pulling the letter out.

Daisy watched her facial expression change as she skimmed the letter, eventually throwing it over her shoulder and opening another, just to confirm they were about the same thing. They were. Daisy didn’t need to read any of them to know exactly what they were saying. They were begging for the same thing she was, for Sunshine to stay well away from the Brotherhood of Steel.

“Daisy,” she sighed, exacerbated as she put the seventh letter down. “How many people did you tell?”

She’d told the whole Commonwealth a dozen times over, judging by the amount of letters surrounding them.

The ghoul looked down at her feet.

“Daisy.”

“Just a few. You know what these people are like,” she added at Sunshine’s tut. “The caravan that dropped off the material for your dress - which had better still be in one piece by the way - asked what I needed it for.”

“And you _told_ them?”

“You didn’t say it was a secret,” she defended. “And I’m sure Robert has told more people than I have.”

She groaned, because she knew it was true. The caravans normally kept to themselves, although they were like apocalyptic postmen, and she remembered just how much the postman in Sanctuary liked to gossip. She knew it had more to do with MacCready and his big mouth than it did Daisy. She made a mental note to kick him, and hard, the next time she saw him.

“Well, I hope they don’t think I’m going to listen.”

“Sunshine.” Daisy argued.

“Daisy,” she retorted. “I’ve already agreed to it, and the meeting is in less than a fortnight.” It would take her the better part of a year to read through all of them, and that’s probably without sleep. “I’ll read a few,” she compromised, tugging her pack off her shoulder and shoving a handful inside. “And I’ll take their considerations into account, but I doubt it’ll change anything.”

“Fine, fine.” Daisy raised her hands in surrender. “I’ll get the rest of them sent over to Castle when the next caravan comes through.”

She stopped abruptly, staring at the sacks of letters and then remembered the caravan with the same ones. She groaned again.

“I think the next one will be here in a few hours.” Daisy looked at her in curiosity. “I’m pretty sure I passed it on the way here.”

She looked down at the floor of Daisy’s shop, she wasn’t sure there was enough space to fit anymore.

“No more, Daisy. I get it, people don’t want me to go, and whilst I appreciate the gesture, it’s a waste of time. Deliver this lot and then no more, just burn anymore you get. Please.”

The ghoul respectfully nodded, having already decided to do just that. Sunshine was taking it well though, she thought, Daisy was expecting most of the contents to be strewn across the shop floor. She was grateful it wasn’t. Even more grateful that a caravan would be along soon to take them away, she was getting sick of not having any room to move; it was terrible for business.

* * * *  


Glory should be used to it by now, given the amount of times the two of them had done it, but she was off her mattress and on her feet the second Deacon stepped through the escape tunnel door, stopping when she realised he was alone.

“Where is she?”

“And hello to you too, Glory,” he joked, sort of. Glory was his best friend first.

“Hello, Deacon. Where’s Whisper?”

“Her home away from home,” he replied, knowing he didn’t have to explain further. “How are things here?”

Glory shrugged. “No idea, I only got back last night.”

“Back from where?” He continued as they walked back over to Glory’s mattress, the synth flopping back down on hers whilst Deacon sat on Whisper’s, resting his back against the wall.

“Did a job for Griswold,” she responded, picking up her cigarette packet and offering him one. “They wanted intel on Vault 95.”

He paused for a moment to light his cigarette, enjoying the initial intake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smoked.

“On your own?” Deacon had been to Vault 95 once before, when he went on a one-man mission to discover all the Vaults dotted around the Commonwealth - not knowing about Vault 111 at the time.

Glory shook her head, smiling to herself as images of Strong flashed through her mind.

“I found someone to go with me. They turned out to be pretty resourceful actually.”

“So,” Deacon pulled the cigarette away from his mouth, keeping it between his fingers as he rested his arm on his knee. “What was the intel?”

“Nothing we didn’t already know,” she shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of time to me, but at least the place is clear of Raiders.” For now at least. And on the bright side, it got Glory out of HQ for an entire day.

Deacon chuckled. “Totally worth almost dying then?”

Glory couldn’t help but laugh too, because of Strong she was nowhere close to almost dying. It did kind of suck a lot of the joy out of a mission, but it was still fun.

“How’d it go?”

Deacon paused at the question, an eyebrow raising beyond the rim of his sunglasses, wondering what Glory was referring to. The raise of the synth’s eyebrow answered the question for him. Of course she knew he’d confronted Whisper, her loud slip wasn’t a slip at all.

“How’d it go when she told you?” He didn’t mean for the resentment to be so apparent in his voice. Whisper said so herself, she didn’t choose to tell Glory, she didn’t even choose to tell him. He just made her.

"Yeah," sighed Glory. "I thought that would bother you the most. Look,"

Deacon raised his hand to stop her. "Don't sweat it, Whisper already explained."

"You're still pissed though," it was less of a question and more of an observation.

"A little," he shrugged. Glory knew what he was like, how he hated to be the last one to know anything, especially when it came to Whisper, considering he knew her first. Technically.

Glory stared at him for a while, trying to see what was really bothering him. Of course it was Whisper-connected, but what part of her was bothering him this time? The smile on his face was so weak it might as well not be there. He was worried.

"She's gonna be all right, Deacon," she told him, not quite believing her own words. But if anyone could go into the Glowing Sea and come out alive, it was Whisper.

"Yeah, I know," he didn't believe himself either, but it was better to live with empty, bullshit hope than to live knowing his days with her were numbered.

She was scared, that much she had admitted, and he was scared too, he just didn't tell her that part. Deacon knew there was a reason she didn't want him to go to Goodneighbor with her, but as much as he wanted to, he didn't pry. Now wasn't the time to pry about anything, if she wanted to tell him she would.

"Is that why you wouldn't tell me who the dress was for?"

Glory nodded. "I was there when she handed over the design. It wasn't exactly said, but I'm not an idiot."

Deacon felt like one, it took him a painful amount of time to put two and two together. Maybe because he turned a blind eye when it came to the real reason Whisper had bothered to find the Railroad in the first place. In his defence, she barely spoke about it. Internally she probably didn't want to go, and Deacon knew he said it wasn't just about her, but she didn't have to take everything on her shoulders, as if the entire continuation of the Commonwealth depended on her. Whisper, for whatever reason, must have thought that was the case.

_Jesus, and I thought I liked to overthink everything._

There was preparing for every eventuality, then there was expecting it. And that seemed to be where Whisper's mind was headed. Knowing her the way he did, she'd drag every weapon she could with her into the Glowing Sea.

Tom was going to need to do more than just build a rebreather.

Deacon tried to remember a time when his life was this complicated. It never was.

* * * *

It was probably too late to worry about affecting the environment, so burning every letter was a possibility, but who knew what attention she'd attract burning them all at once. Throwing them into toxic waste was another solution. Sending them out into the ocean was also another one. She did, sort of, appreciate the gesture. They'd taken the time to write to her, most telling her they were worried for her safety, rather than their own. It was sweet, and she could see where they were coming from.

Some of the people writing to her had lived in the Capital Wasteland, telling her how the Brotherhood changed dramatically after the death of their previous Elder, how many of them were exiled, or shunned just because they were ghouls. It was heartbreaking. But so was everything else that happened, to everyone, whether they'd had experience with the Brotherhood or not. MacCready had a lot of colourful words when it came to Maxson, but she sensed some childhood resentment.

Others just wanted to make sure she was doing the right thing, that she was going to go there and tell the Brotherhood to fuck off - their words - out of Minutemen territory. Many of them even entertained the possibility of her walking into a trap. She had considered it too, but he wrote to her, and she doubted the Elder was childish enough to kidnap her just so he could rule the Commonwealth. Good luck to him, if that was his plan. She wouldn't exactly go quietly, if at all.

Despite their intentions, she was also annoyed at a lot of them too. She had no idea what information they'd been fed, but it was like a game of chinese whispers that expanded across the Commonwealth a dozen times over. They almost made it sound as though she suddenly woke up and decided to walk to Boston Airport.

She thanked her lucky stars they didn't know about her mission into the Glowing Sea, they'd be pouring the letters into Castle by the truckload. But she meant what she said to Deacon, she wasn't going in there as General, she was going in as herself. Or as Nora. Nora definitely cared more than the rest of them. Then again, she was supposed to.

She took her time walking back to HQ, partly because she didn't want to, but mostly because she had to walk off some of the anger building inside her. It might take her a while. Every time she pushed it aside she was reminded of the letters stuffed into her pack, then she'd remember thethousands more waiting for her in Daisy's office. She honestly didn't know there were that many people alive in the Commonwealth, unless Raider gangs had started writing to her too, and she really didn't want that to be true.

She stormed past the cage in the escape tunnel, not stopping to put on her wig, she was too angry to think about it, and to be truthful, it hurt wearing one all the time. She'd been wearing it for months, and right now, she didn't care if people saw her hair or not. Chances were, they wouldn't be seeing it for long.

Her feet froze at the bridge, her hands balling into fists as she tried to force her feet to move. Realising she couldn't, she screamed, deep within her throat, and threw her pack on the ground.

* * * *

Deacon and Glory were sat in the tunnel, engrossed in the game of ‘thumb wars’ that they’d been playing all afternoon when a bone breaking noise emanated from the door leading to the escape tunnel. They immediately looked at each other, Deacon taking his advantage to lock Glory’s thumb under his.

“That doesn’t sound good,” commented Glory, wincing when they heard another crash.

“Nope.” Deacon went back to playing the game Glory’s thumb was no interested in playing anymore, smugly trapping it again.

“Don’t rush or anything, will ya?” she criticised as she twisted her hand in Deacon’s and bent his wrist back. She got up and gently pushed him away.

The unmistakeable sound of a barrel smashing against the wall echoed around the tunnel as she opened the door. Deacon dared to peek, his head and body moving as Glory closed the door behind her.

Glory spotted Whisper sat on the makeshift bridge, her feet dangling in the once radiation-infested water, her whole upper body moving as she tried to breathe.

“You okay?” asked the synth as she got closer.

Whisper whipped her head around, initially angry but calming once she noticed it was Glory.

“Oh, it’s you.” She was glad it wasn’t Deacon. At least Glory knew some of the story. She sighed. “It’s been a tiring day.”

“You were only going to Goodneighbor, what happened?”

“Goodneighbor happened.” She laughed without cheer.

It wasn’t until Glory was on the bridge, moving to sit down next to Whisper that she realised numerous torn open envelopes were scattered around them, most of them floating just below the surface of the water.

“This is _exactly_ why I don’t tell anyone anything.” She didn’t look at the synth as she held up her hand, inviting Glory to read one of the many (many) letters she’d received.

Even by Glory’s standards the language was harsh, explicit and almost downright offensive, but she shrugged it off. It was how she felt about the Brotherhood too.

“And there are hundreds more just like it, and I mean _hundreds_.” No doubt she would receive more, each one asking her the exact same thing. “They think I’m walking into a trap,” she laughed bitterly.

“Maybe you are,” shrugged Glory, the thought having occurred to her as well. “You said so yourself, the Minutemen have done wonders for the Commonwealth, you need to consider that the Brotherhood and its Elder are just trying to undo all that.”

“But they brought peace to the Capital Wasteland,” she remembered some of the information in the letters. “At least I _thought_ they had.” Even MacCready couldn’t argue with what they’d done, but just like she, his information had been through a third party, some of the people writing to her had been there. “But it is just a dictatorship masquerading as a peaceful nation.”

The synth looked at her for a moment, silently registering that the agent’s face was completely uncovered and how little she seemed to care.

“Are you worried?”

“I always am.” _I’m just sick of being the only one._ She knew that wasn’t strictly true, she knew a lot of people worried and cared about the welfare of the Commonwealth, but what concerned her the most was people’s reaction, being General of the Minutemen put her on a pedal stool she never wanted to be on, one wrong move 

“Maybe you should talk to Dez? I mean, she won’t be happy about it,” by any stretch of the imagination, “but she’s had run ins with the Brotherhood before.”

“That’s why I can’t go to her, why I can’t take anyone’s advice, or warnings. I can’t walk in there thinking they’re the enemy, because I don’t want them to be that.”

“Sometimes I think you enjoy doing the impossible.”

“My whole life revolves around the impossible.” She said macabrely. “There was once a time I’d thrive on it, but now…Now, I’m just _tired_.”

_That shit catches up with all of us eventually_ , sighed Glory.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Exactly what I said I would. As much as they wish, all this,” she gestured to the letters strewn about them, “doesn’t change a single thing.” She’d decided that before she even read them. “I need the Brotherhood on my side. You know I do.”

Glory nodded, unhappily. There was no doubt in her mind that Whisper _had_ to go, all of this was part of her plan.

“Sometimes I think it would be easier if I never woke up….” she said to herself, though loud enough for Glory to hear.

“You don’t believe that.” the synth mumbled, hoping she didn’t.

“I said it would be easier, not right.” She corrected. “Someone else would have come along eventually, they would have found the Institute.” _A hell of a lot quicker than I._ “They wouldn’t let their fear get to them, they wouldn’t get distracted by things that, no offence, mean fuck all in comparison to the rest of the world. _They_ wouldn’t have asked you to sacrifice your friend, they wouldn’t make people do their bidding just because they could. They’d be someone worthy of…leading the Minutemen.”

Glory pushed her in frustration, never understanding why she was so hard on herself.

“Shut up, okay?” It was a rhetorical question. “The Minutemen would still be lost to time if you hadn’t come along.”

Whisper sighed, not quite believing her.

“Trust me, Whisper. You’re the best thing to happen to them.”

And they weren’t her words, Glory was simply quoting every Minutemen supporter she’d spoken to when they went travelling together. Eventually Whisper sighed, bringing her feet out of the water and tucking her knees beneath her chin.

“Anyway, how are you?” she wiped the sweat off her brow, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.

“Good,” smiled the synth, loving the sudden change of subject. It was insane just how much Whisper and Deacon had in common; they both hated talking about themselves and their feelings, both of them wanting people to believe they didn’t have them. “I took Strong out on a mission.”

Whisper’s eyes widened in surprised.

“How’d that go?”

“All right, surprisingly. He stole most of my kills, but he was super helpful.”

She smiled at the image of Glory and Strong running around the Commonwealth, the super mutant smashing his way through crowds of people.

“I left him back at Trinity Tower,” Glory informed her. Whisper nodded, it was probably the best place for him, at least for now.

“That’s fine. I need to go to Sanctuary soon anyway, I’ll take him with me then.”

The two of them fell into comfortable silence, staring down at the envelopes that were floating in the water. Before she could second guess herself, Glory put her hand on Whisper’s shoulder and the agent instinctively leant towards her, falling into her side as Glory’s hand travelled to her other shoulder, pulling her into a hug.

Glory wondered when she suddenly became the agony aunt of the Railroad, but she didn’t mind too much, at least she was comforting her friends, and it did give her something to do.

“Thank you, Glory,” she sighed, taking hold of the hand on her shoulder.

“You’re welcome.” The synth replied, not a hundred percent sure why she was being thanked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise something more exciting is coming soon, possibly in the next one, but it depends on how much I want to torture everyone.
> 
> Of course, as always, thank you for being here.
> 
> Love y'all xx


	47. It's Been Awhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elder of the Brotherhood and the General of the Minutemen prepare for their upcoming meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unique to me, having barely written anything from a Brotherhood perspective, especially Elder Maxson's and my SS is written from a completely different POV. I hope it fits well with everything else, fingers crossed.
> 
> (Chapter Title: [It’s Been Awhile - Staind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=araU0fZj6oQ))

_ Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown _

 

_Maybe it’s my age. I know I’m young, I know a lot of them have known me since I was a child, but it’s almost like they forget who I actually am. I’d been training for this my entire life, I know the difference between right and wrong. I know what I’m doing. Sometimes, I just wish they’d listen to me._

Over a hundred feet in the sky stood a ship, swarming with dozens of soldiers, veterans and initiates alike, and below were even more, walking and monitoring the grounds. Each one of them vigilant at all times, their jobs requiring them to be at the top of their game. All of them governed and led by a man much younger than them. A man, most would say, was put on the throne just a little too soon. But he worked hard, harder than most as he tried to prove himself a worthy leader, and whilst most fell under his leadership almost immediately, it was his own self-doubt and family name that pushed him to believe he wasn’t doing all he could, he could always do more, always work harder. The young man often gave thought to his predecessors, those who took the Brotherhood away from their original purpose. He was told they were weak, taking the organisation down a road that would inevitably end them. It was his destiny to turn them back around, for the world to see a beam of hope every time they saw a member of the Brotherhood.

He watched his soldiers with something akin to envy, of course they shared in the task of bettering the world, but at the end of the day, they could lay their heads on their pillows and, for a while, forget about all the responsibility that hung from their shoulders. He wished he could do that, he wished that his job was simple enough to allow him to push everything out of his mind, even for a second, but the weight on the shoulders of a Brotherhood Elder was heavy, too heavy to expect one person to carry it all. Secretly he knew he wasn’t alone, that there were dozens of people under him ready to take some of the heavy load, if he were to only ask, but the job of a leader, first and foremost, was to be alone. And he felt that way, no matter how many people surrounded him.

_Maybe it’s the way I was trained, or whom I was trained by. It wouldn’t surprise me. Most weren’t happy with the direction they were trying to pull us in, but Owyn and Sarah were great in their own right._

He knew Sarah wouldn’t be happy with the decisions he’d had to make, that much he knew, but there was a time and a place to take the advice of the dead and being Elder of the Brotherhood was not one of them. Owyn would be even less happy. His pride and joy, the Citadel, no longer a safe haven for all people but a place where ghouls and anything not-quite human were shunned simply because of who they were. The Elder knew, deep down, that a lot of it was not their fault, they were simply the outcome of what happened to the world. But that alone told the Elder that the world needed structure, it needed someone to look up to, to fall behind when things got tough, and as the leader of the most prominent organisation in the Capital Wasteland, that job fell on his shoulders.

But they weren’t in the Capital, not anymore, and he hadn’t been there for months. He’d been too focused on following the Institute, taking the information of his team and travelling all the way here to think of anything else. Minutemen was just a word that echoed in the back of his mind. They were a dead concept, minimal soldiers with no influence on the people they were desperate to help. The Commonwealth was in dire need of the Brotherhood. Or so he thought. Any research his team decided to do was completely outdated from the moment he arrived. The stories he’d heard in his childhood may have been right all those years ago but the Minutemen, when it came to the people of the Commonwealth, were far more famous than the Brotherhood.

Moving into Boston Airport had been a seamless few weeks, though there was always room for improvement, soldiers were given their assignments, posted in the most vulnerable places within the Airport and then, when the dust had settled, teams of knights were sent out into the Commonwealth to find those in need of help.They were new to the Commonwealth, they couldn’t just go barging into places they weren’t welcome, no one would listen to them if they did but the Elder was astounded to hear that no settlement took them up on their offer of help, most of them not even needing it, and those who did, point blank told them they would write to ‘their’ General if they did.

As soon as word of the organisation reached his ear, he changed tact, he wanted to find out as much as possible about the supposed General of the Minutemen. But he soon found out, there was very little information to find. He had his people scour the planes of the Commonwealth, talking to anyone and everyone they could, and even the oldest of all Minutemen settlements couldn’t tell them more than ‘the General was the greatest thing to happen to the Commonwealth’. He was used to fighting an organisation wrapped in shadow, the Institute had been a blight on the Capital for months, but he’d never heard of people so unwilling to talk about someone they admire.

It took several days for them to discover where the Minutemen were stationed, he was astounded to find they were situated just across the water, and from this distance his people could see Minutemen walking around the old compound, but no one ever saw someone who even looked like they were in charge. Any intel that reached his desk about the Minutemen usually consisted of how much the General had done for everyone, it hardly spoke of the other soldiers involved and the Elder began to wonder if anyone had actually met the person in charge. Immediately he and everyone else knew the Brotherhood could not gain the support of the Commonwealth without the Minutemen.

If it had been up to him, the Elder would have wrote the letter himself, but as his advisors agreed that the Elder writing to the General of the Minutemen would be in ‘bad taste’, the task was delegated to someone lower down the pole.

_And as soon as they take it out of my hands, they all start to panic_.

His young age meant nothing when he felt old, as if the entire history and reputation rested on his shoulders. No one could understand that amount of pressure. Well, perhaps there was one person who could.

“Elder?”

A nudge to his arm and suddenly he was dragged away from the window and brought back to the round table he was sat around, each chair occupied by a key member of the Brotherhood. Arthur cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his chair, rolling his eyes over the fact this conversation was still ongoing; it was the entire reason he began to stare out the window in the first place, and every other time before that.

“Elder Maxson, have you been listening?” wondered Lancer-Captain Kells, his face fixed with a stern expression.

_Nothing new there_ , thought Arthur, silently chuckling to himself.

“Not really, no,” he told them honestly, an exasperated sigh leaving him. A few mouths dropped at his statement, Kells’ eyes narrowed even further, but he didn’t regret one word. He was Elder, what could they do? “Gentlemen,” he glanced around the table, eyeing all of them. “We have been through this time and time again, and my opinion has not changed. It was _my_ decision to invite the General to the Prydwen, it is _he_ whom agreed to come here. I honestly doubt the man is planning to bring every member of the Minutemen with him, just as I don’t plan on having every member of the Brotherhood roaming around the Prydwen whilst the General is here.”

He had told them this already; thrice.

Everything was going smoothly until the General wrote back and agreed to meet, then everyone lost their minds. Not a single station was left empty, a power armour suit was constantly being upgraded or fixed and Arthur had originally not thought much of it. Until he heard two squires talking about going to war with the Minutemen.

“It would be ludicrous to assume the General is coming alone,” advised Proctor Quinlan, his face rather soft in comparison to everyone else around the table. Unlike a few people onboard, the Proctor simply gave his opinion, rather than telling the Elder what to do. Apparently being the ‘Elder’ didn’t weigh as much importance as his age.

“I think the man would be insane to come alone,” the Elder agreed. Beyond certifiable. “He will most likely bring his most trusted, just as mine will remain on the ship.” Mainly those around the table - if they calmed down - and the other department heads. Again, something he’d already told them. Danse had to be there of course, even if he was only a Paladin, he was probably - most definitely - the Elder’s oldest friend, and still treated him as such, rather than licking his boots or kicking his ass.

The Elder was used to the people around him thinking they knew what was best for him, but once or twice, he had to put his foot down. Everyone in the Prydwen was treating the General’s visit as if it were some form of hostile takeover, almost completely forgetting that it was the Brotherhood who initiated the meeting in the first place.

“We have not invited the General of the Minutemen here as a declaration of war. You have read the intel, just as I have, the Minutemen are well established within the Commonwealth, this is not the Capital, we are the underdogs here. Like it or not, we need to be on good terms with the Minutemen.”

There were scattered murmurs of agreement, though some of them begrudgingly. Arthur himself felt neither way about the situation. He, himself, was rarely allowed to go outside the grounds on his own, he normally had a crowd of people following him, and he suspected the same could be said for the General, because the Elder seriously doubted that no one knew what he looked like. Someone, somewhere had to know what sort of person he was, and the Elder was determined to find out what sort of man he was dealing with. But more than anything, the Elder wanted to know what the General had done to instil so much faith, in so little time. It was extremely admirable. 

It was important the General came to the Prydwen, there were no neutral places in the Commonwealth for them to meet, and the Elder needed to at least feel as though he had the upper-hand. This is what he was told, therefore this is what he had to expect. Though, he had to wonder if his advisors knew what they were doing, suggesting to the General of the Minutemen that they meet in Brotherhood territory. But he did what was asked of him, only this time demanding that he write the next letter himself. Elder or not, he was not too important to write a simple letter to a fellow leader.

Not two days later, he woke up to a single letter sitting on his desk. He turned it over in his grasp, noting the seal on the back and opened it with haste as he anxiously anticipated the General’s response. The Elder was surprised at the General’s acceptance to meet, even more so that he were open to the idea of having said meeting on the Prydwen. The Elder understood why _he_ needed to meet with the General, but he wasn’t sure why the General wanted to meet him. He supposed it was the notion of getting to know one’s enemy that pushed the man to make the right decision.

The Elder seemed to be the only person not shocked that the General was making demands. His advisors couldn’t believe his audacity, whereas the Elder didn’t expect anything less. Any self respecting leader would make demands of the people suddenly in their territory because at that moment, that was what was happening, the Commonwealth belonged to the Minutemen and the Brotherhood were simply guests.

The two weeks they were given was passing quicker than any of them would have liked. Everyone, including the squires, were on guard, all hands were on deck and his men had a sudden skip in their step as they prepared for their visitor. He had spent much of his time over the past few weeks thinking about the man he was about to meet. Was he tall? Of course he is, leaders always are. Was he a man to be feared? Respected? Both? Would he be a man who shared the same values as the Brotherhood? Would he be hostile, or would he understand the importance of this meeting?

Only three more days and he would have his answer, and his heart was raising with every passing hour.

* * * *

Rosie awoke the same time she did every day, though she had a feeling she slept in, if the position of the sun was anything to go by. Everyone else was still asleep, though she expected nothing less. An early riser, that’s what her mother used to call her. She sat down on the bench, pulling her boots in front of her as her free hand scooped up her hair, and she stepped into her boots as she tied her hair up in a tight bun, knowing that tying it loose would only cause an issue later on during the day.

The heat from the early morning sun bared down on the dirt covered ground and Rosie made the decision to water the crops before they dried out. She enjoyed being the only one up at this time, it was quiet, the only thing awake was the wildlife running around in the distance. At this time of day she could even hear the crows in the sky, which was a rarity, when everyone else was awake, she could barely hear herself think, let alone hear anything else.

Rosie placed the watering can in front of the water pump and lost herself to the sound of the water sloshing around freely, trying hard to remember the last time she lived in a place where she didn’t have to worry about running out of water. She honestly couldn’t. She hadn’t lived the best life, though she also knew her life could have turned out far worse. She may have spent months sleeping rough on the ground in Goodneighbor, but she knew how lucky she was to be able to stay within the walls of a town. Those assholes in Diamond City would have made her sleep outside if she had decided to go there instead.

She’d only been living at Oberland Station for a few weeks, the newest member of the settlement, but her attitude towards the hard work helped her fit right in. Rosie understood that in order for them all to live peacefully, each one of them had to put in the effort. She never imagined herself living in a settlement, never imagined herself getting off the ground of Goodneighbor, but nearly everyone was telling her to go and seek out a settlement run by the Minutemen. _You wanna survive, then stay here, but if you wanna live, you need to get the hell out._ So she did, and whilst she gave thought to the town frequently, missed all the people who had become a huge part of her life, she did not miss the noise.

Rosie barely noticed the figure looming in the distance until she moved to the second row of mutfruit. The hairs on the back of her neck automatically reacted, and subconsciously her hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t actually there. Panic tried to set it, her eyes searched for someone, anyone, to help her but she was mildly relieved when she realised the strange figure was moving slowly and awkwardly, as if they were struggling to walk. A few years ago, she would have run up to them and asked if they needed help, but she was older now and not nearly stupid enough to do it. She didn’t stop what she was doing, simply slowed her movements down, all the while keeping the figure in her eye line. The turrets didn’t react, neither did any of the other traps dotted around the settlement and Rosie began to wonder just how the machines distinguished between friend and foe.

She stopped working all together when the figure was close enough for her to make out some distinguishing features, though it still didn’t help her as the person had their body completely covered from head to toe. But she did notice the large stick they threw to the ground, and the two planks of wood wrapped around their leg. It wasn’t until they looked like they were about to collapse that Rosie put down the watering can and cautiously made her way toward them, reminding herself to stay just over an arm’s length away.

“Can I help you?” she called, her voice weary, her body shaking from adrenaline.

Rosie barely heard the response, though was pretty sure she heard a name. Realising she wasn’t in as much danger as she initially thought, Rosie took a step forward. “Sorry, what?”

“Tomas,” groaned a weak, feminine voice, which surprised Rosie the most. “I need Tomas.”

“I,” she looked around, knowing Tomas wasn’t awake yet, and wouldn’t be for a few hours. “He’s asleep.”

“Wake him,” she demanded, the pain in her voice apparent as her hands grasped her leg just above her wrapped knee.

Rosie sucked in air between her teeth, extremely unwilling to do as the stranger asked. Mainly because she really didn’t want to wake him (most people were grouchy when woken up, Tomas was even more so) rather than not wanting to leave the stranger alone on the settlement.

“I’m not sure I can,” she replied hesitantly, wavering off as she was unsure as to how to finish her sentence, because, of course, she was perfectly capable of waking up another human being, but she didn’t want to admit (even to herself) how reluctant she was to do it.

“He won’t give you shit,” she reassured as she reached into her pack and pulled out a dark cloth. “Believe me, you’re doing him a favour.”

The masked woman threw the cloth in her direction and Rosie clumsily caught it, her eyebrow raising in confusion as she looked at the crumpled fabric in her palm. Her other eyebrow raised in surprised as she straightened out the fabric and noticed the Minutemen symbol painted white, though her eyes then narrowed into confusion as to how this woman being part of the Minutemen would stop her from getting shit from Tomas for waking him up for nothing.

Regardless, Rosie did what the injured woman asked, though reluctantly, and went to Tomas’ room to wake him. His initial reaction was just how she expected, a volley of colourful insults were thrown her way, but he stopped immediately, as if he’d lost the ability to open his mouth, when she threw the torn fabric at him.

He held it up in the air, the fingers keeping hold caressed the material as if it were the most precious thing in the world and Rosie looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. She instinctively took a step back when Tomas suddenly sprung up from his bed, narrowed eyes bearing down on her.

“This is very important, Rosie,” his voice was low, almost dangerous. “Who gave this to you?”

“I don’t know her name, but she asked for you.”

“She?” he repeated, his entire body freezing as his brain caught up with her words. He looked down at the fabric caught between his fist. He still remembered the first day he saw it, though he hadn’t seen it in a very long time.

“Yes, and she’s injured.”

Suddenly Tomas kicked into high gear, diving for his medical supplies before scrambling to hold them all as he pushed his way past her and Rosie was sure he would have walked right through her if it were possible. She slowly followed behind him, wondering what was so damn special about this particular woman.

Rosie didn’t make it very far before Tomas came crashing back into the house, one arm supporting the woman she had left outside.

“I have to say,” huffed Tomas as he carried most of her weight, though there wasn’t much of it. “It’s nice to know it’s you, and not someone pretending to _be_ you,” he admitted; it was his initial thought after all.

A strained laugh left her as he carefully dropped her on to the couch. Without being prompted, she lifted her injured leg up to rest her foot on the nearby table; her hands immediately grasping her thigh to relieve some of her pain. 

“How long have you been walking on this?” he wondered as he took the makeshift splint off from around her leg.

“About two miles,” she breathed heavily through her mouth as the lack of pressure released a wave of pain. “Maybe three.”

Tomas’ hands stopped halfway through unravelling the blood-soaked bandage off her knee when he realised her trousers looked untouched, even though there were obvious blood stains.

“Still wearing the jumpsuit, eh?” 

“Motherfucker,” she grunted.

Rosie sat on the last step on the stairs and watched as Tomas took care of the mysterious woman he was clearly on friendly terms with. She averted her eyes when he began to help her out of her clothes, though she couldn’t help but peak through the gaps in her fingers, her hand dropping completely when the woman exposed her purple, skin-torn leg. It was a miracle she’d managed to stay alive, let alone walk all the way here.

“What did this?” Tomas asked as he took a gentle hold of her leg, resting her knee over his thighs in order to examine it closer.

“A bear trap,” she winced, her voice cracking as Tomas prodded the wound, trying to determine just how extensive the damage was. Walking on it hadn’t helped. “Raider caught me by surprise, crashed through a door, next thing you know,” she gestured lazily down at her leg.

Tomas would have asked her how she managed to walk, but he already knew the answer. There were indentations on her skin where she had used a stimpack, the splint was an ingenious idea and he also suspected somewhere outside was a piece of wood she used as a cane. She could certainly think on her feet.

“It could have been worse,” she comforted. “To be perfectly honest, I’m lucky I didn’t break my back.”

Rosie watched in complete awe as Tomas squeezed, poked and twisted the woman’s leg repeatedly. She’d always thought of becoming a doctor - let’s face it, living in the Commonwealth, it’s not like they didn’t need more doctors - and she watched Tomas whenever she could, but that was usually dealing with a scraped knee or someone having a fight with a rake. This was completely new for her, a half naked woman sat on their couch, her leg in a position it shouldn’t naturally be in. Even from the distance she was sat, Rosie could tell just how bad her injury was, and was secretly glad she wasn’t sat any closer.

“You reacted quickly,” he told her as he let go of her knee and put her leg back over his thighs. “Stopped any affection, and you managed to stop your leg from breaking completely,” he heard her sigh of relief, but they both knew the good news always came before the bad. “But your knee is twisted, just a fraction but it’s enough to hurt like a bitch when walking on it.” Exactly why she shouldn’t have walked all the way here, though he was secretly honoured. “You’ll need to stay off it for at least a week.”

She groaned in annoyance, her arms flailing in front of her and she sat up, as if trying to get her leg back from him.

“Not an option,” she grunted as righted her body as best she could. “I have a very important meeting in two days,” she informed him. She threw the hat off her head, running her fingers through her hair in frustration, more at herself than the situation. “I’m so fucked,” she breathed as she stared down at her leg.

“Where is this ‘important’ meeting?” Tomas probed, doubting she’d answer him. He had no right to ask her, what she did with her time was her business.

“Boston Airport.”

Tomas’ eyes bulged immediately, knowing full well whom was stationed at the airport. More than a few caravans cross through Oberland Station and they were more than happy to complain about the huge deliveries they had to make to Goodneighbor. When probed, they were even more happy to explain what the huge delivery was. He, himself, wrote a letter too, not expecting her to read it (especially by the time he sent it) and he knew a few others in the station had done the same. But he suspected he was one of the few people encouraging her to meet with the Brotherhood. He hadn’t had a lot experience with the Brotherhood (thankfully) but he’d heard a few stories. However, he knew it was necessary for the Minutemen to be on good terms with the Brotherhood, whether they had another agenda was another story, if the Minutemen somehow upset the Brotherhood, they could unravel all the good work the Minutemen had done.

When they first met, the Minutemen were just starting to be heard of again and she was new to the role, so new that she didn’t even want it. Didn’t want the title, didn’t want to be noticed. She simply did what they needed her to do, told them to thank the Minutemen and went to walk away. When asked if they would ever see her again, she simply shrugged. _If we’re lucky, probably not._ Initially he didn’t know what to make of her response, found it callous and cold, but the more he repeated it to himself, the more he realised what she meant. And she was right, they didn’t see her again until they needed help. Tomas only recognised it was her because of her voice.

“Why come here?” he wondered. “Surely another settlement was closer?”

“It’s been a while. I had planned on making my way over here, though under far less dire circumstances. Goodneighbor was closer, but too many people would lose their shit if they saw me like this. Too many people know who I am,” she sighed.

“Plan aint working out so well?” He questioned casually.

“It’s pretty much blown up in my face.”

“Why not just embrace it?” His arms flared out dramatically. It was the safest option sometimes, to just roll with it. The Commonwealth is determined to eat people alive, let it and you’ll never survive.

“Walking around the Commonwealth, as one does, tends to put a target one’s back. If raiders start recognising me, that target would be even bigger. I’ve neither the desire or the energy for that.”

“You speak like you’re about to drop down dead at any minute. You’re what? Mid-twenties? You’ve got at least,” he looked her up and down, “a _few_ decades to go before you knock out for good. Though, not if you keep doing stupid shit like this,” he gestured to her knee.

“It was a bad case of poor judgement,” she admitted. “I’ve been shot, I’ve suffered injuries far worse but _this_ has simply reminded me just how fragile my body really is,” she sighed, defeated. “I feel old. I know I don’t look it,” he wouldn’t know, “but in my mind, and my body, I feel it. Feel the years I was never supposed to have, even if I didn’t technically go anywhere. My brain has kept me alive far longer than it was designed to.”

Tomas understood almost nothing about what she was saying, he just let her mouth spew the stream of consciousness her mind had conjured.

“I think we’re all alive longer than we should be,” he told her, leaning casually back in his chair, being wary of her leg as he stretched his arms behind his head. “I mean, think about it.” Suddenly he sprung forward, his hand wrapping itself around her shin to keep her leg steady, his free hand out expressively in the air. “The world _blew itself up_. Yeah, you got your ghouls, that makes sense. But how the fuck did the rest of us get here? How many people survived the end of the world and stayed ‘normal’? And if that’s the case, are we all, somehow, distantly related? I mean, surely only a few ‘regular’ people survived, so what? They all just fucked each other? The guy upstairs is my distant cousin, twice removed on my mother’s side?” She remained silent, unsure how to answer him. “You see my point yet?”

“There was a point to all that?” the smile of her face softened the sarcastic tone of her voice.

“You keep thinking about this shit and you’ll go insane. _More_ insane,” he corrected. “I’m here, you’re here, everyone else is here. Don’t question it, just go with the flow. This is the problem with raiders, they don’t appreciate how amazing it is that people survive, even when the odds are _heavily_ stacked against them.”

“Explains why they keep invading the same places.”

“Creatures of habit don’t change until something else does,” he raised his eyebrow at her knowingly. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t do every single thing to help, you gave people just enough hope to begin living their lives how they should.”

“So people keep telling me,” she sighed, cocking her head in his direction when he chuckled.

“You still think the same way you did when we first met. You’re human, at the end of the day you’re going to make mistakes. You need to stop punishing yourself.”

“I was meant to be going careful. No injuries, no pointless fights. Nothing that could possibly fuck me over before meeting with the Brotherhood. This ruins my entire plan.”

“That’s a tad dramatic, isn’t it? Changes it, sure, but it doesn’t ruin it. Resting for a week isn’t an option? Fine, you work around it. A caravan shows up every day at four, that gives you…three hours to sit and _do nothing_ ,” he quickly added. “Given your status, they’ll take you straight to Castle if you tell them to. Give yourself a day to get there, you’re on a caravan, and they’re slow.” Tomas would know, he’d hitched a ride on many when he was younger. “You either manage to walk on your feet or you use the people around you to support yourself, without actually looking like that’s what you’re doing. Might have to use more than one person, otherwise you might end up spreading a rumour rather than peace,” he half joked.

“How did you come up with that?” she asked in awe.

“I spent much of my youth pretending to be sober when I wasn’t. My dad was cool with it, as long as my mom didn’t notice. He was the one who taught me in the first place.”

“Why are you not in Castle?” He heard the smile on her face. He chuckled lightly at the compliment.

“Because Oberland needs a doctor.” He repeated her own words back to her. She only prompted him to become the settlement’s doctor because of his history with a needle. He certainly got a liking for it, for one it was fun to know his job was to essentially stab people but mainly because it was nice to be around the good effects of chems. It was amazing what they could do when used correctly. Eight months down the line, he’d learnt a lot, witnessed a lot too, but was still happy to do it every day.

A tiny part inside him was screaming with joy over the pure fact that the General of the Minutemen was sat in his living room and they were talking as if she weren’t this huge deal to the Commonwealth. Planting the seeds in people’s brains was enough for them to, yes, do it for themselves, but still remember exactly who pushed them in the first place. To be happy about where you live now is to remember the people who got you there.

Whilst most people stayed in the same settlement, there were a few people who moved through other settlements, people would leave, others would arrive, and so they weren’t in the right place at the right time to have met the woman sat in front of him. Most, even if they had met her, wouldn’t have a clue whom she was, her title was never used aloud, even when she was there on Minutemen business.

Tomas could spot Rosie sat at the bottom of the stairs but let her be, knowing she was watching with intrigue because she had no idea who this woman was. Of course she knew there was a General of the Minutemen, but he doubted Rosie knew it was a woman, most newcomers assumed it was a man and no one corrected them. The idea was to let the rumours spread and never answer them; let people think what they wanted. Normally he would say something about her eavesdropping, tell her to mind her own business, but someone should see the General for who she is, not just her title.

She nodded, remembering the moment she told him that.

“Preston’s going to kill me,” she told him.

“I’m sure he’ll just be happy you’re alive. You said so yourself, it could have been worse. Though next time this happens, and it better not, I would suggest walking somewhere closer than a settlement with your favourite person,” he winked at her and she breathed a laugh.

“Life seemed strangely less complicated when we first met.”

“For you maybe, but for everyone else, we were going to sleep, wondering if we were waking up in the morning. You’ve done enough.” He told her with enough conviction to make her believe it.

“For the Commonwealth, possibly. For myself, I’ve not done nearly enough.”

“Then change that. We’re good,” he spoke for every person in every settlement. “Think about yourself for a change.”

“I’m trying to do exactly that, it’s why I have to meet with the Brotherhood. If that makes sense?” She didn’t leave him the time to respond. “To help myself I need to leave the Minutemen, and the Commonwealth for an undetermined amount of time. I have to make sure the Brotherhood don’t plan to harass my people during my absence.”

“Why tell them you’re leaving in the first place?”

“I don’t think this is a relationship that can be formed in one meeting. Especially when said meeting is on the Prydwen. Whilst wanting to know more about me, the Elder wants to show me what the Brotherhood has to offer. I have to return that courtesy.”

“Nice.” He complimented. “Well, you’ll be happy to know not a single Brotherhood soldier has been seen in over a week.” As far as he knew anyway.

“They’re preparing for a very important visitor, I imagine. I gave them very little time to prepare. Even if it goes well, and he wants to meet again, I have to give a small timeframe. I’ve been putting off things for too long.”

“You’re like a mother too scared to leave her child at home for the first time.”

She laughed dryly at an internal joke.

“What effort I have put in would be for nothing if they can’t survive without me _physically_ being in the Commonwealth. Sometimes the best thing to do for a child is to stop and let them walk on their own. People haven’t _needed_ me for a while, the only way to prove that is to leave.”

“But you plan on coming back?”

She nodded slowly. “My plan is to stay alive, but, yes, I have every intention of returning. My business in the Commonwealth is not done. Not yet.”

“A mystery wrapped in an enigma.”

“What is?”

“ _You_. I mean, I know _I_ speak some shit, but you love speaking in code. Only problem is, you’re the only one who knows it. Everyone’s got crap, why are you so hellbent on keeping yours locked up? You keep doing that, one day you’ll explode, and probably end up killing yourself.” He told her as he gently moved her leg off him in order to stand up, rubbing his thighs as he did. “You should probably try to get some sleep,” he advised. “Want something to knock you out?”

She shook her head. “Pain is weakness leaving the body,” she seethed as she changed position now she didn’t have the softness of his thighs to rest her leg upon. “Tomas?” she called for him, her eyes staring at her knee. “Couldn’t do me a favour and find me some clothes? Doesn’t matter if they don’t fit.”

“Can do,” he shouted back, his eyes on Rosie - whom was suddenly on her feet - his hands gesturing for her to get up the stairs. He followed close behind her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she half-whispered when they were at the top of the stairs.

“Shut up,” he grabbed her arm, pushing her into her room. “We need a pair of trousers and a t-shirt.” He folded his arms in front of his chest, his posture suddenly authoritative.

“She, that woman downstairs, is the fucking General of the Minutemen?” she questioned, her voice still low but her arms did what he asked of her. Tomas wasn’t exactly in charge of the settlement, but everyone respected him.

“Yes,” his arms gestured for her to both hurry up and shut up.

“In our settlement? On our couch?” It was incredible, something no one else would ever believe.

“Firstly, she’s a person, so calm the fuck down, okay? Secondly, she’s only on our couch because she’s injured.”

“You certainly seem to know her,” she noted, raising her eyebrow in suspicion.

“No one knows her,” he corrected. “That’s the whole point.”

“She was rather open with you.”

Tomas rolled his eyes at her observation. Then again, he supposed if Rosie knew more about her, she would understand how untrue that statement was.

“She was nothing of the sort, for the most part she was informing the settlement that she would be gone soon.”

“She still didn’t explain why she came here, of all places.” She informed him, throwing out t-shirts that didn’t go with the trousers she’d picked out. She couldn’t have the General of the Minutemen wearing shit clothes.

Tomas shook his head. “Then you weren’t listening. She’s here because she wants to be around people who don’t only know her as ‘General’, or this shining light. We met when she was first starting out, when she wasn’t a big deal. Wouldn’t you want to surround yourself with people who knew you before when everything’s going to shit?” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah, but where is she going?”

He rolled his eyes before shrugging frustratedly. “She doesn’t have to tell me, and I’ve no intention of asking. Just because she didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean she didn’t see you. Stay away from her Rosie, last thing she needs is another doe-eyed accolade breathing in her face.”

“I was going to be cool,” she defending, leaking her plan to talk to her. Though, Rosie had already decided to do that before discovering who she really was.

“Rosie, we have to pretend this never happened, that she was never here. If word gets around that the General of the Minutemen is injured, people will lose their minds. Especially now.”

“Oh, because of the Brotherhood?”

He quickly shushed her when her voice was just a tad too loud, the walls weren’t exactly thick and most people slept light, as was the norm in the Commonwealth.

“Yes, the truth could start in this settlement but by the time it reaches the other side of the Commonwealth, it’s transformed into some cockamamy story involving the Brotherhood trying to kill her.”

She conceded to that, it was exactly what would happen. She really hated it when Tomas was right.

“Let me get this straight, I have an unbelievable, crazy ass story I can’t tell _anyone_?”

“You have the chance to let someone live their life. That’s gotta be a nicer way to look at it.” He raised his brow as he bent down to pick up her clothes.

It was another way of honouring her, not talking about her was a simple enough task, unfortunately not everyone could handle it. The problem with having a simple life was that it left a lot of time for people to gossip. And there was only one subject they all had in common, the reason they got to where they are now. Everyone wants moments that aren’t known to the entire world, if she needed her secrets she could keep them, but he meant what he said to her, keeping them inside her will eventually tear her apart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to come from an angle where Maxson isn't a complete douche, but is heavily influenced by those around him, allowing them to make decisions where he would normally do the opposite. If any/all Brotherhood fans could not kill me, it would be appreciated.
> 
> As always, thank you and you guys are amazing.


	48. Kryptonite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations continue, though the Elder is having a smoother time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the long update, my muse has had me forcing on other things
> 
>  
> 
> (Chapter Title: [Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPU8OAjjS4k))

_True is it that we have seen better days_

 

_You are a fucking idiot._

The voice jolted her from the sleep she was barely having. The road was not smooth and every bump knocked her leg, sending a bolt of pain and excruciating heat to her knee. Tomas had mostly repeated what she had already done, adding his own touches before bandaging her back up. She was stiff and sore, but mostly she was panicking over Preston’s reaction. This was not how she expected her week to go.

_If you had just stayed where you were._

Her original plan had been to just have Preston and one other with her, now she may have to consider Tomas’ advice and bring three people instead. Each one of them could play a role in helping her stay up right, and make it look natural. Any more and it might send the wrong message, any less and she might end up clinging on to Preston the entire night, and neither of them would be happy over the prospect of that.

She realised Daisy probably did the right thing, making her take her dress to Castle as soon as it was finished. She’d kill herself (along with Daisy’s help) if she’d ruined it today. At least when it came to preparing, she’d been ahead of herself, her entire outfit was locked away safe, including the ridiculously high heels she borrowed from Piper and the cloak someone found for her.

_But you ran away. Because that’s all you seem to do now. And look where that got us. This is not his fault. You can't put this on him, not this time_

And she wasn't, not really anyway. But that was the problem with Deacon, for every step forward they took, they seemed to take two steps back. She knew the blame for her situation resided with her entirely. She just loathed what he did to her. It was as if her brain didn't function when it came to him, as though all sense of self preservation evaporated the moment she walked into Hangman's Alley.

The irony of the situation was that she had gone there to do something nice for him after reading something she probably shouldn't have. She could hardly be blamed for that, it wasn't her fault that PAM weirded out the moment she walked into the room, and she’d always had little self control when it came to reading classified information. She had to think fast, so she did the same thing she once had to do with Codsworth, and connected her Pip-Boy to the back of the assaultron. What she then found was entirely out of her control.

_True, but you didn't have to read it._

At first she didn't even know what she was reading, it took her a while to realise it was entries from other Railroad agents, most of them deceased, and then she read that simple line _“Deacon (that’s what he's calling himself now)…”_ Synapses clicked all over the place and it didn't take her long to put it all together. 

Jonny D.…Deacon. They were the same person.

Deacon hadn't technically been lying when he told her he was in charge of the Railroad. Desdemona was the face of the organisation but Deacon was responsible for getting them where they were today. He found all the tourists...He created dead drops all over the place so the safe houses could communicate with each other…He already had an escape plan in place in case the worst happened...He saved a lot of people. 

The entry that was clearly referencing her did sullen her mood a little but nothing could diminish the light that suddenly turned on in her head. Everything about Deacon made sense to her now. Why he hated her being gone for too long, why he shot his mouth off all the time, why he would never leave the Railroad.

Barbara was the only family he had, once she was gone he had to cling onto something, and he was clearly trying to make up for what he saw as failure. He lied to protect people, and himself, because he couldn't bear for people to realise how much he actually cared. He was an unspoken hero and didn't even mind that he didn't get personal credit for it, everything he did was for the sake of other people. It was exactly why she connected with him. It was also why he would never tell her he didn't want her to go into the Glowing Sea, and why he would never admit the pained look on his face when he overheard her finally telling Desdemona about her meeting with Elder Maxson.

That conversation went as well as she had expected, Desdemona completely ignored the fact she was going affiliated with the Minutemen and warned her about leaking information to an enemy and the price she would have to pay if she did. She smiled and simply told the Railroad leader that ‘quite frankly’ it was none of her business who the Minuteman decided to ally themselves with. Luckily, at this point, she'd had enough self control not to scream profanities at the woman. Though storming out and referring to her meeting with Maxson as a date was rather childish and, because of that, she avoided looking at Deacon as she left.

If anything should have made her lose her self control, it should have been that. Instead it boiled down to a few chalk lines on a wall.

It screamed at her the moment she walked through the gate. The word 'MAC' written above its appropriate lines and two questions popped into her head. When did he have the time to do this, and how on earth did he know about it? Of course she answered the latter almost immediately. She remembered the one time she had herself that out loud, when they went to Outpost Zimonja, when she stayed up all night and wrote her first letter to the Brotherhood. She was too busy trying to figure out what to write, she didn’t think he’d been listening. It shouldn't have surprised her that he'd heard her, or that he was even awake, but it scared her enough to forget why she’d gone there in the first place and she ran out the gate and walked into a Raider den, in desperate need to blow off steam.

_You’re lucky you didn’t blow off your leg._

Her head dropped in annoyance. On second thought, she didn’t care about Preston’s reaction, it wouldn’t exactly make her feel worse. As much as she loathed admitting it, the voices were right. She _was_ an idiot. She’d made it twelve days without an incident, she had been ridiculously careful the entire time and she’d perfected her plan.

She had no idea how she would handle walking until the morning, after she’d rested her leg for a while. Tomas had replaced her splint with two crutches he had found, so she didn’t have to put any pressure on her leg, and she was eternally grateful for it. She refused to let the caravan take her all the way to the gate, _that_ was not the entrance she wanted to make. Showing up on crutches, whilst making everyone panic, would show that she’d taken care of it, that she was okay. This was her hope.

She realised that a lot of this meeting was now hanging onto hope. The hope that she could pull off this now even more elaborate plan, hope that she and the Elder would find common ground - he couldn’t be as awful as everyone said - and hope that the fact he didn’t know she was a woman would be enough for him to gloss over everything else. It was supposed to be perfect, it _had_ to be perfect. Now it was anything but.

However, it wasn’t necessarily the meeting with the Brotherhood that was bothering her, in terms of that she just needed to come out of it alive. It was what came after it that caused her stomach to twist, a deep sense of dread making its way into the pit of her soul. Because this was it, this was the last ‘big’ thing she had to do, after this, there was no reason for her to stick around the Commonwealth anymore. Her settlements were good, scared about the Brotherhood, but other than that, they had nothing to worry about. All major problems had been directed to Sam, her caravans would organise the necessary provisions. The Minutemen, and the rest of them, didn’t need her. At least not for a while. There were no excuses anymore, there were no reasons to keep her in the Commonwealth other than her own fears. Of course, she knew the Glowing Sea was a part of the Commonwealth, but she doubted she’d find Virgil hiding out close to the edge. No, knowing her luck, he would be so far south it wouldn't count as being in Boston anymore.

The sky was burning orange as the sun rose beyond the horizon, her mind back on the Brotherhood, when the caravan came to a stop close to the path that led to Castle. She refused help when getting out of the wooden cart, slipping her arms into each crutch before placing them on the ground and putting her weight onto them. She’d never broken a bone before, even though she hadn’t this time either, so she hadn’t much experience with crutches, the sensation of putting her weight on one leg and then two metal sticks was odd, but the tightness of her biceps stopped her arms from aching too much. In fact, adjusting the height was the most difficult part of the process, and that was only because she couldn’t believe it was set to the bottom indent, and even then she still had to stretch a little. Not for the first time she wished she was a few inches taller.

By the time she got closer to the gate she had grown confident in her new way of walking and barely noticed the man stood outside the gate. Once she did, she initially assumed it was Preston, she remembered the plan to meet here this very morning - so that worked out well for her - but was surprised to see the concerned face of her best friend.

“RJ, what are you-“ she blinked, completely amazed he was here. “What are you doing here?”

“Never mind that, what the hell happened?” he asked, immediately trying to replace her crutches but she refused to let him help her, at least yet anyway.

“I’ll explain in a minute, but I need Preston. This changes some things,” she looked down at herself before looking back up at him. MacCready nodded and ran ahead to pre-warn Preston about the state of his General.

She sighed, built up a minute amount of strength as she readjusted her grip on the crutches and then hobbled her way into the courtyard. She could feel eyes on her immediately, if she had been in a settlement they would have rushed to her by now, but those posted in Castle knew their General better than most, they knew it was the last thing she wanted and so they stayed where they were, their minds no doubt wondering what had happened.

She got to the archway before she ran into Preston, the Lieutenant immediately wearing a face of concern.

“I will tell you,” she began before he even said a word, “but I need to sit down first.”

And she hated herself for it. She hated how weak she felt, how exhausted she was just from a walk she had done a dozen times, and she had her doubts on just how long she’d survive when on the Prydwen.

Unlike her best friend, Preston didn’t even attempt to help her, knowing his offer would be turned down immediately. Instead he followed close behind her as she made her way to her quarters, secretly wondering how on earth they were going to deal with the Brotherhood now. This changed almost everything.

They waited patiently for her to sit down on the chair in front of her desk, she gestured for one of them to close the door and Preston obeyed without a word, his brow still furrowed with concern. She was grateful for the moment’s peace, and the chance to sit down on a surface that didn’t knock her around every few seconds. She perched the crutches against the desk, vowing to never use them again. 

Both men sat patiently as she explained her predicament - glossing over the reason as to how she ended up in a Raider den in the first place - and neither of them bothered asking her to expand, knowing she would deflect away from the question anyway. MacCready was the one to ask where she had gone to get herself fixed up. He would have gone into her visit with Tomas, if it hadn’t been for the look of terror and confusion on Preston’s face. She was worried too, she was just doing a better job of hiding it. She appreciated that both of them were more concerned about her than anything else but she knew how much this changed everything. Preston and she had put a lot of time into perfecting their plan and she felt the overwhelming desire to apologise to him.

“I’ve thought about it over and over,” she told him, “but I don’t want any more people with us. You, James and I can do this on our own.” She was adamant. “We’ll have to get the timing perfect.”

Preston nodded, his expression clearly telling her he didn’t think it would work, but like any good soldier, he agreed with whatever she said.

“Preston, I need you to tell everyone I’m alright. I don’t want this broadcasted all over the place, and I know no one in Oberland will say a word.” She looked at both of them. “You know what they’re like, before you know it everyone will be saying the Elder tried to kill me.” Not that she knew he wouldn’t.

Her Lieutenant nodded. “Anything else, General?”

“For now, no. But tomorrow we’re going to have to get to work, pull James off his duties as well. I can’t risk anyone messing up.” And she was including herself in that.

She waited for Preston to leave before she let the worry show on her face and sighed heavily.

“How’s Tomas?” MacCready suddenly asked and she chuckled half-heartedly at his attempt to distract her.

“He’s okay. He’s got a fan,” she smiled weakly, remembering the girl sat on the bottom of the stairs, watching their interaction. She knew passion when she saw it and the girl clearly had an interest in the medical profession. “He was the one who told me what I should do.”

MacCready’s eyebrows raised as his mouth shrugged and he nodded. It was surprising that she would take anyone’s advice but her own. He considered it personal growth on her part, or maybe she had just been high on chems at the time.

“What’s the plan then?” he wondered.

“To learn how to walk,” she stated as she got to her feet, putting equal amounts of pressure on each foot and resisting the urge to burst into tears.

_* * * *_

The Elder noticeably shivered as he paced up and down the floor of his quarters. His coat was somewhere down in the Airport, getting washed, pressed and perfected, and he’d only just realised how cold the Prydwen actually was. He could complain, if it were something someone could actually fix. Though he suddenly had the notion to make all Brotherhood uniform lined with some form of insulation.

On the other side of the door he could hear people rushing about, the whole room shaking when someone in Power Armour stomped passed his door. Everyone was preparing for the missions he’d only given them that morning.

One of the benefits of being the person in charge was that, even if people didn’t agree with his decisions, they went along with them regardless. He knew that he couldn’t just tell them to leave for an extended period, a large mass of Brotherhood soldiers wandering aimlessly around the Commonwealth would not promote the peaceful message he was trying to convey.

Hoards of Knights were given missions, most sending them far, _far_ away from the Airport, most Squires and Initiates were given duties off the Prydwen, somewhere deep and hidden within the Airport, and high-ranking members were given strict orders not to be anywhere near the Prydwen during the General’s visit, and if they were then they were not allowed to leave their quarters.

Most weren’t happy about it, not because they didn’t want to work, but because they wanted to see the General for themselves. The Elder could understand but he couldn’t let that happen. The General was coming to the Prydwen for business, the last thing Arthur needed was everyone gawping at the man. The idea alone set a bad taste in his mouth, the Brotherhood were professional, not a bunch of children.

Of course, there _were_ children on the Prydwen, but they were not like regular children of the Commonwealth, or the Capital for that matter. They were more disciplined, destined for greater things than spending their life on a farm, but at the end of the day, they were still children and it was those who complained the most. Not to the Elder himself, obviously, but some outbursts had been so loud that he could not help but overhear. Arthur did not intervene, or tell them off, because inside he was just as excited as they were.

They had just over twenty-four hours before the Vertibird was due to set off and pick up their guest and every minute was being spent getting everything perfect.

At the sound of the first knock on his door, the Elder scowled, but soon found himself smiling as a unique rhythm continued against the metal door. He didn’t even need to question whom it was, the two of them had come up with the sequence when Arthur was a child, and when his favourite Paladin walked into his room, he almost sighed with relief.

“You’re going to scruff up the flooring,” the Paladin commented as he watched his Elder’s feet, deducing that the young man had been pacing up and down all day. He used to do it as a child, why would he change just because he was an adult.

Arthur groaned in frustration, but agreed. He stopped and moved over to his dresser, picking up two glasses and a decanter filled with whisky. Danse quietly made his way over to the Elder, silently analysing him. He hadn’t seen his friend look this uneasy in a very long time. He resisted the urge to smile.

“Nervous?” he asked rhetorically, his eyes falling on the large glass of whisky the Elder had poured himself.

“This meeting is very important,” Arthur replied, pressing his lips against the rim of the glass before downing half of its contents in one gulp. He pulled a face at the sensation of burning as it made its way down his throat but otherwise ignored it. “It could change history. What?” He asked at the light chuckle that left his friend.

“It always amazes me, the amount of unnecessary pressure you put on yourself.”

“Well,” he groaned as he sat back in his chair, feeling a hell of a lot older than he actually was. “It does come with the job title.”

“You’re still meeting a human being,” he reminded his Elder as he sat down on the chair on the other side of the desk. Danse took smaller sips of his whisky, drinking it out of enjoyment rather than necessity. “You are not meeting the Creator himself.”

The Elder sighed again, running his hand over his face in frustration.

“You have not seen the intel,” he told him, his eyes fixed on the glass of whisky on his desk. He took hold of it with a swipe of his hand and he downed the rest of its contents. "The people of the Commonwealth revere him more so than the people of the Capital do me.”

Danse scoffed lightly. "I do not see a statue of the General anywhere.”

Arthur groaned. "Thank you," his voice was laced with sarcasm. "I did not need reminding of that.”

The Paladin laughed, though his eyes were soft as he felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy for his friend. The road to being named Elder had not been smooth.

"They love him, adore everything he has done for them. I'm not sure what the Brotherhood can do for them that the Minutemen have not already done.”

"Unnecessary pressure," he repeated quietly, taking another sip of whisky.

"This meeting could make or break us in the Commonwealth," he stated distantly, his eyes locked in a thousand yard stare. "This has to be perfect.”

Everyone was expecting his plan to fail, he knew it. They didn't need to say it, their very expression telling him his plan was not good. But that was only because it was HIS plan, not theirs, and he hadn't asked any of them for advice. "I know what I'm doing.”

Danse knew the Elder was trying to convince himself rather than him.

"Of course you do, Arthur.”

The Elder smiled then, most, if not all, of those below him rarely called him by his name - preferring to address him by his title or too terrified to call him anything else. 

"And if it's of any consolation, I'm sure the General is just as worried about this meeting as you are.”

The Elder considered his friend's advice for a moment, his gaze switching between his empty glass and the practically full one on the other side of the table. The desire to pour himself another was there but he controlled himself, he would not slip into the same pattern he did so many years ago, and he knew Danse wouldn't let him.

Just a meeting, he told himself, no need to fly off the handle.

_It wouldn't do well to be drunk in front of the man you're beginning to idolise, would it?_

Danse watched his friend, saw his synapses firing as he lost himself to his thoughts. The Paladin sighed, feeling sorry for his friend and the responsibility he carried. It was too much to ask of someone so young, even if he had been trained for it his entire life. It had been amazing to watch, this once small boy turning into a man, but the weight on his shoulders had never changed and Danse honestly believed it wouldn't ever change, whether by someone else's hand or his own, Arthur would always feel the pressure of being Elder. If there was anything the Paladin could do to help ease said pressure, he would do it without needing to be asked.

"Yes," he finally said, his voice in a dreamlike state. "I'm sure he is.”

And then Arthur returned to his thoughts, wondering exactly what the General was doing to prepare himself for his visit to the Prydwen. It wasn't about wanting to show up the man, at least on his part, Arthur just wanted the General to realise that the Minutemen, at the very least, needed the Brotherhood, though deep down there was a small voice telling him it was actually the reverse, but even he wasn't naive enough to admit it to anyone but himself. But for a man whom brought the Minutemen back into a place of recognition, Arthur imagined the General had thought of every scenario possible and had planned accordingly. Thus far all his own planning had gone just as he intended, but even the most perfect plans have a tendency to go awry.

* * * *

Her face was stained with tears her eyes couldn't help but release. She felt pain like she never had before, it was excruciating and so immense that she had to wonder how useful the splint around her leg really was, but she pushed herself through it. _Pain is weakness leaving the body_. She repeated the words in her head, even when she thought she would pass out.

_If you can’t walk barefoot, you’re not going to be able to walk in those shoes._

She ignored the voice and continued to walk forwards, grunting in annoyance when she felt her left foot dragging across the floor. She winced but otherwise ignored the pain as she put pressure on her foot, balancing her weight evenly. All her body wanted to do, however, was put as little pressure on her left leg as she could. She either hobbled or walked with her back at a weird angle, and that was just when she was barefoot. She had yet to even try to do it in heels.

There were some things she refused to change, the dress was staying - after all the effort Daisy put in, she couldn’t not - which meant the shoes had to stay, because it was longer than she anticipated. If she put too much weight on anyone she might end up stabbing them in the toes with her heel.

She stopped at the other end of the room, collapsing onto the cabinet, annoyed at herself for being out of breath and wanting to fall to the ground and crawl into a ball. She was stronger than this, a twisted knee wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

“Give yourself a break, you’ve been at this since you got here.” And she was supposed to be resting.

She glanced over at him, somewhat grateful for his words but more grateful that he was even there with her. She was also glad Preston hadn’t disturbed her since she first arrived, he was perhaps assuming she was asleep, but everyone knew she wouldn’t do the thing she was supposed to be doing.

She forced herself to stop panting and pushed herself up. 

“Come here,” she gestured him over and he was quickly by her side. She gestured him to stand on her left as she snuck her hand under his shoulder, gently leaning into him as she put more of her body weight onto him.

“How’s that?” she wondered, her voice slightly fractured at the relief that suddenly overwhelmed her, so euphoric she felt light headed.

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?” he smiled, barely feeling the extra weight. “Wanna try walking?”

“Go for it,” she sucked in a deep breath, told herself to toughen the hell up and put her right foot forward. 

She wavered more than MacCready did, not used to giving over that much control of herself but eventually sunk into rhythm that didn’t make either of them stumble. It probably helped that she trusted him.

“Okay, so that works,” he encouraged, “and I don’t think it’s obvious you’re being helped. Preston’s tall, so that could work with the shoes.”

She laughed lightly at his constant attempt to comfort her. “I just have to be able to walk on my own for a moment and make the transition look seamless.” She imagined the chances of it looking normal with Preston were higher than with James. 

“Maybe the fact you’re revealing you’re a woman will be enough to blind him to everything else.”

He guided her to her bed, sick of watching her cry, and prompted for her to sit down, she groaned but relented, every muscle was killing her; she was physically and mentally exhausted.

“You know, you’re not doing any good by pushing yourself? If you need to cancel, you should.”

“I can’t, it’s tomorrow and there’s no way I can get a message to him in time,” she sighed. “The Vertibird is coming and no matter what, I’m getting on it. I have to.”

It was MacCready’s time to sigh because he knew she was right. “Then at least rest, just for a while.”

“As long as you promise not to go anywhere,” she countered.

She needed him; MacCready was the only one here who understood her.

“Where else am I going to go?” he smiled, moving to the other side of the bed to save her the trouble of moving herself. He got on top of the bed, joining her in the middle, but before he sat down he took a few of the pillows on her bed and placed them under her leg, elevating it enough to ease some of the pressure she had no doubt put on it. When he positioned himself comfortably on the bed, she leant into him almost immediately, immersing herself in a scent that took her back to a still complicated yet simpler time, the weight on her shoulders hadn’t felt so heavy when it had been just the two of them.

Her fingers traced random patterns on his stomach through his shirt and MacCready ran his hand through her hair, both of them thinking of a time they were both able to lay back and not worry about anything, wondering if they’d ever been able to do such a thing.

“RJ?” her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, somewhat hesitant to ask him because she had a feeling she wouldn’t like the answer. “How long have you known Deacon?”

His eyes widened with surprise, it had to be the last thing he was expecting. She rarely mentioned the Railroad agent around him, especially by name, possibly so she could hide how much she really thought about him. They hadn’t spoken about the man since they left him in Sanctuary and MacCready had never said aloud how obvious it was that, a, the two of them liked each other, and b, that they’d had sex just before she punched him. MacCready was willing to wager that anyone who knew the two of them knew what had happened, the giant hickey covering her neck and the limp she had were a dead giveaway. He had no idea the wounds Deacon had been sporting, but he imagined they were just as obvious, and put all that together…Well, anyone can put two and two together and come out with four.

He sighed and started at the beginning, summarising a lot of his time as Mayor of Little Lamplight before the Railroad agent crossed the wrong path. The kids in Little Lamplight weren’t like other kids, you know, the ones who had parents, so they weren’t as stupid as everyone else. 

Sometimes their mistrust of adults would go a little further than shouting a few profanities at them, and there were always a few of them who took it a step too far. They wouldn’t have killed him…At least MacCready liked to think they wouldn’t have, but he had to step in when he thought they’d broken his legs. He repeatedly reminded her that he hadn’t laid a finger on him, back then anyway.

“So, for a while then?” she let out a breathless laugh, her eyes a mixture of shock and worry, both imagining kids that savage and Deacon getting the crap beaten out of him.

He shrugged in agreement. Then she asked him something that surprised him even further.

“Did you stay in Goodneighbor just to beat him up?”

“It had been a long time coming,” he told her confidently. “He followed us _everywhere_ , which got real annoying real quick, and he hurt my best friend,” he squeezed her side, pulling her further into him. Despite herself, she smiled, secretly enjoying his chivalrous yet barbaric behaviour. “You can’t exactly blame me, given the state of you when you told me to come to Goodneighbor, even Hancock said he’d never been so worried about you, and he worries about you _a lot_.” He didn’t bother to explore his theory on her feelings for Deacon. Mostly because she would never admit it, but also because MacCready doubted she even knew how she really felt. As far as she had come since first stepping out on to the Commonwealth, she was still confused by emotions, particularly her own.

He also suspected that those emotions, and the man they were towards, caused this latest catastrophe. She wasn’t the sort of person to just walk into a Raider den by accident, unless she was having a mental breakdown, and she'd been having a lot of those lately. The reality of Shaun’s situation was affecting her more than she liked people to think, and partnering herself up with another damaged liar wasn’t helping either.

“Tell me about Sanctuary,” she asked, her voice airy as she began to feel sleepy, her entire being moments away from shutting down almost completely.

He helped guide her into a better position in which to sleep as he updated her on recent events. Marcie and Juan were still the same, awkward around everyone, Sturges was starting to get bored, running out of things to fix, and whilst no one new had come to stay, plenty of travellers had come to visit. Then came the subject of Curie, and considering she was tired, MacCready kept it light.

“When you come back you’ll need to explain how people work, it doesn’t seem to sink in when anyone else tells her. You’re our last hope.”

She chuckled through her nose, her mind, in its dreamlike state, wandering back to the other times she’d been told that in the past. At least she cared about the person saying it this time.

“Whatever you want.” It was the last thing she said before she gave in and let herself succumb to the sleep she’d been resisting since she got to Castle. 

MacCready let out the huge sigh he’d been holding in since he watched her walk up the path on a pair of old crutches. He wasn't sure what surprised him more, the soft expression on her face or the fact it was there without her using chems, as far as he knew anyway. In fact, since her stint in Goodneighbor he hadn't seen her use once, and he hadn't even seen her use that time, just witnessed the aftermath. It was entirely by choice, he knew that, but it was crazy how she went from one extreme to the other, either she overdid them or she went without, there was no in between.

He was glad she managed to fall asleep, but he had a feeling he was in for a late night. Despite what she said about _him_ , she was a force to be reckoned with when she was asleep, especially since she hurt her head; she tossed and turned, thrashed out with fists of fury and kicked him off the bed several times. He couldn’t risk her twisting her knee even more, her scream would probably wake up the entire place.

He did suppose he should go check on Preston, make sure the man wasn't panicking as much as MacCready suspected, and also to update him on her status, but everything was too up in the air for him to give Preston a confident answer. There was no way she hadn't pushed herself too far, putting herself through as much as she did in such a small space of time, and he knew they would all be extremely lucky if she hadn't screwed herself up further.

Instead of leaving her alone, MacCready chose to do something useful. He moved as softly as he could, manoeuvring himself closer to her leg whilst trying not to wake her. He rolled the loose trouser leg up to her thigh, revealing the bandage underneath, covering a knee that was about three times bigger than it should be. Like he said, she pushed herself too far. MacCready kept his eyes on her the entire time, watching her for any visible reaction as he unwrapped the bandage from around her knee, swallowing the curse that tried to escape when his gaze fell on the deep purple bruise and the gnarly, angry red scar that covered the width of her thigh. Looking at the state it was in now, MacCready couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad it had been when it initially happened, but he had a feeling she was lucky she hadn’t ripped off her entire leg.

On second thought, maybe Preston should be panicking a bit more.

MacCready got more sleep than he expected, even waking up before she did, and if it weren’t for the soft, yet pained, breaths that left her, he would have thought she was dead. He gently rolled off the bed and headed for the door to update Preston. MacCready wasn’t even remotely surprised to find him stood outside the door, his arms folded and his face painted with concern. Preston had probably had the least amount of sleep out of everybody.

“She’s asleep,” he quickly told the Minuteman, not sure what else Preston wanted him to say, a miracle hadn’t exactly occurred overnight. “She can walk on it, but not without crying. She’ll most likely want to start practising with you the moment she wakes up.”

Not an ounce of relief showed on Preston’s face, then again MacCready hadn’t expected it to, he hadn’t said it to comfort the man, it was simply the truth. 

“I think our plan needs to change more than she thinks,” stated Preston and MacCready agreed. He had started to believe she could pull it off, before he saw the state of her leg. There was no way she could do it with just two other people, and before this had even happened he worried she would break her neck wearing those shoes, but she was nothing if not stubborn.

“Yeah, try telling _her_ that.”

She awoke around midday, and MacCready had been right when he said she would want to practise with Preston the moment she woke up. For a moment she had forgotten what happened, until a jolt of pain pushed her into reality and she peered down at her swollen knee; it looked nowhere near as bad as it felt and it looked pretty bad.

Her foot barely touched the ground before she was swallowing a scream, a pain so great it was almost euphoric, much like what happened to people who were just about to die. She sat down on the bed immediately, resisting the urge to lay down. Instead she reached for the bandage on her bedside table, assuming MacCready was responsible for taking it off in the first place, and wrapped it around her knee, keeping it taut enough to hold her leg together but not so tight she cut off her blood supply.

The pain was still there when she tried to stand again, but she decided it was bearable. Her eyes glanced at the crutches, her brain begged for her to use them but she ignored it and walked towards her door. She knew she wouldn’t have to go far before someone informed Preston she was awake and she was barely out of her room before she was spotted. The soldier ran off without saying a word to her and she almost felt like a child.

“You shouldn’t be walking,” Preston advised when he made his way towards her.

“I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things,” she replied, almost breathless. “But, alas, here we are.”

This time Preston did not hesitate to help her, and she was vulnerable enough to accept. They were going to have to get used to walking this close together.

Without the shoes, and with Preston towering over her, it was harder for her to walk without wanting to cry. It was easier to put her weight on him, but it was also more obvious she was doing just that. 

When the dam did break and her eyes streamed tears once more, she pushed herself even further. She was pretty sure - adamant in fact - that she had never cried in front of Preston, and she’d been hoping to keep it that way. Preston tried very hard not to look at her, extremely uncomfortable with her constant crying, but she was willing to wager she was more uncomfortable than him.

After three hours of relentless practising, she stopped, somewhat to Preston’s relief, there was only so much crying he could take. She knew she had to try it with the shoes, but she really didn’t want to. Preston had his reservations also.

“We’ll have to get it over with sooner or later,” she informed him and Preston reluctantly nodded, turning away to collect her shoes. Her heart was pounding in her chest, loud in her ears, and she felt a sense of fear she never thought she’d have over something so trivial.

* * * *

Arthur had locked himself away in his quarters, only coming out when his presence was required, and when it was, he was extremely vocal about how irked he felt. Despite what was going to happen that evening, he felt extremely relaxed. He’d gone to bed at a reasonable time and had managed to sleep all the way through the night, and he couldn't remember the last time that happened.

A few hours into waking up and there was a gentle knock on his door. He opened it to find a Squire stood there, his coat over both arms, and noticeably shaking. She silently passed it to him and ran away, faster than he’d seen anyone run. His mouth shrugged in distaste, he knew why but he wished people weren’t so intimidated by him. He missed people being able to look him in the eye. He supposed it came with the role, to have everyone below him be absolutely terrified of him. He imagined the glorified stories of his exploits didn’t help, but most of them seemed to forget that he was once in the same place as the rest of them. Though, not quite, because he was always destined to become Elder, but underneath he was still human, and he wanted people to remember that.

Most teams headed out the previous evening, leaving only a few groups behind but he knew they would be gone for the ship by the afternoon. So far everything was coming together rather well. Arthur had unloaded most of his work onto Kells, knowing it would keep the man busy enough that he would leave the Elder alone. Today was a day where he _needed_ to be left alone, needed to be rid of any thoughts that weren’t of the General and his impending visit.

The only person who had less than him to do was Danse, something the Paladin wasn’t used to and definitely something he didn’t like. If the Elder hadn’t requested his presence, he would have begged for something to do. It was early afternoon by the time the Paladin got sick of walking up and down the Prydwen, and he joined the Elder in his quarters.

When he entered, Arthur was sat on a chair in the middle of the room, an off-white sheet wrapped around his body, exposing only his head. Before the Paladin could voice the question of why, an Initiate walked in, a shaving kit tucked under his arm. Danse silently took a seat and waited, smiling to himself at the faces his Elder pulled every time the blade came in contact with his neck, either worrying that the Initiate would shave too much or accidentally slit his throat.

Arthur had been growing his beard long before he was officially named Elder, and Danse knew it was because it made him look older. He was usually reluctant to let someone else anywhere near it, because he always worried someone would be stupid enough to shave the entire thing, and Danse had a feeling the Initiate knew how attached the Elder was to his beard. The poor boy checked with the Elder after every move he made, no matter how slight, and with each ‘How’s that?’ the Elder’s patience was waining.

Twenty minutes later and the boy was finally finished. Arthur untied the sheet from around his neck, standing up as he thanked the Initiate for his work. Danse gave a cursory nod as he walked past and out the door, and his eyes watched the Elder move towards the back of his room, opening the door that led to his bathroom.

A few minutes later Arthur returned, a towel over his face as he dried himself off. The Elder sighed and threw the towel in the direction of his desk, reminding himself to move it at some point before the evening. Arthur eyed the bottle of whisky on the table, wanting to down at least half of it, but grabbed a bottle of water instead, picking up another to pass to the man whose presence he had yet to acknowledge.

Danse silently accepted the water and watched as the Elder dragged the chair over and sat down opposite him.

“Not long now.” stated Danse, enjoying the cool water running down his throat. Alcohol was nice but the Paladin preferred the sensation of cool, clean water more than anything he’d ever drunk.

Arthur made a noise of acknowledgement and took a large gulp of water, really wishing it was whisky. He wouldn’t dare risk it, because one glass always led to another, especially when he was drinking with a friend.

He wanted nothing more than to sit at his desk, sigh and run his hands through his hair, but he didn’t have time for that. Getting his beard trimmed was only the first step of many. He still needed to have a shower, get dressed, sort his hair _and_ go through the plan one more time in his head. He would be pushing it on time. He suddenly felt as though he was preparing himself for a date, not that he had much experience in that area. Thus far people had left him alone, after all he was still young, but he knew the time would come when people urged him to find a suitor. Along with the pressures of being Elder, he was also the last of his bloodline. At this moment, the ‘Maxson’ name would die with him, and a lot of people wouldn’t be happy about that.

Arthur moved towards where his coat was hanging and ran his hand down the fabric. Why they bothered to clean it was beyond him, it wasn’t like he went anywhere to get the chance to make it dirty.

An hour later the Paladin returned his own room, doing his own preparations for the evening, leaving the Elder alone. Knowing he would just poor himself a large glass of whisky, Arthur turned back towards the bathroom, undressing himself on the way. At heart he was still a soldier, he picked each item up as he went, and then folded his clothes neatly on the cabinet in his bathroom.

Hot water was rare on the Prydwen, but being Elder had its perks; especially today. As the water ran over him, he rubbed every muscle he could reach, kneading out the dozens of knots this job had created. He also knew the job would have its difficult moments, getting the Brotherhood in their current direction had been a task and a half, but it was the waiting around for nothing that killed him the most. He felt useless, when others were out there fighting for their lives, all in the name of the Brotherhood, he was essentially locked safely away. Everyone had always been so insanely protective of him.

Perhaps he had that in common with the General of the Minutemen. Perhaps the reason for their intel being so vague was because all settlers were protecting their leader. Perhaps the General was locked away like he was.

He had hundreds of questions he wanted to ask the man, but knew he couldn’t blurt them all out in one go. That was something a kid would do, and he was an adult. He was the Elder of the Brotherhood, the man destined to do great things, the man who brought them back in the right direction. The General would also have questions for him.

He was washed and dressed by the time Danse reentered, looking exactly the same and Arthur had to wonder if he’d even bothered to shower. The Paladin poured himself and his Elder a glass of whisky as Arthur stood in front of the mirror.

“You know, I haven't ever seen you this nervous," Danse commented as he watched the Elder scrutinise every detail about himself. "Not even during your inauguration.”

"That's because I knew what was going to happen," he replied, correcting the lapel of his coat for the dozenth time. This was exactly why he didn’t want them to wash it. It had been pressed too much, it felt too clean, as if it were brand new. He wanted to make an effort but he wanted to look natural. He rotated his shoulders and flung out his arms in an attempt to loosen the tightness of the coat, somewhat frustrated he had to do so in the first place. Mentally he had begun to write a list of every detail he was going to scrutinise his team for, he was hoping they hadn’t messed anything else up.

"If I can unify the Commonwealth, that would show those who doubt me back at the Citadel.” He stated, walking away from the mirror to gladly pick up the glass of whisky and take a large sip.

"It's your first meeting with the General, perhaps you should get to know him as a person first,” advised Danse. The Paladin knew the pressure his friend was putting on himself was not entirely of his own doing. Everyone was expecting a lot from a first meeting. “ _Before_ bringing up why you wrote to him.”

"I imagine he knows exactly why we wrote to him. I expect him to have a few tricks up his sleeve as well.” and Arthur had prepared for many.

“Well, not long and you'll have your answers.”

"What about you, Danse? How goes your hunt for answers?”

The Paladin sighed and as he was about to reply, there was a knock at the door.

Arthur shrugged and called the knocker inside. The same Squire whom gave him back his coat entered and he resisted rolling his eyes when he realised she was still shaking. Danse caught his eye, noticing it too, and they shared a look.

“Sir.” The Elder ignored her stuttering and the fact she was possibly two words away from crying. “The Vertibird Pilot is ready to dismount, he is awaiting your command.”

“He can leave.” He made the effort to not sound like an intimidating asshole, the voice he had to use when asserting his authority, hoping she would calm down.

She nodded, still unable to look him in the eye. “Then the General should be here within the hour.”

Arthur nodded in understanding and turned away, giving her the opportunity to leave and the Squire was all too happy to do just that.

He sighed, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. He only had one chance to make a first impression, there wasn’t a lot he could do to his appearance, but making sure every hair was in its rightful place was something he could control.

There was no turning back now, this meeting would make or break the Brotherhood’s presence here in the Commonwealth. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you guys are amazing =]


	49. Courtesy Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General of the Minutemen and the Elder of the Brotherhood finally meet.
> 
> And we get to see how Deacon's handling the whole thing...I think you can imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter Title: [Courtesy Call - Thousand Foot Krutch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ocpDEOXABWg))

_ We know what we are, but know not what we may be. _

 

A masculine hand grabbed at the dark blue fabric, pulling it closer. There was a body underneath the material, of that Deacon was certain, but it wasn't until he pulled her closer that she came into view.

Tightly curled, luminous, white hair bounced against her shoulders and he almost smiled when her bright, green eyes stared back at him, her lust completely exposed. He'd waited a long time for this moment and she looked more beautiful than ever. 

Glory was wrong, she hadn't got the dress for the Brotherhood at all, she'd gotten it for him. The desire to rip it off her porcelain skin was prominent, but she would probably slap him around the face...and he didn't want the second time to start out like the first.

His hand was on her cheek, and he was too busy enjoying the fact she was leaning into it to realise it wasn't his hand at all. It was much larger, covered in far more callouses and the nails were too clean.

"Not bad for a first date," she smiled at him and a voice that was not his own replied.

"Nor a first meeting."

He pulled her in for a fierce kiss to stop himself from questioning why he called it their first meeting, that happened months ago. He enjoyed the feel of her tongue against his and the soft moans that left her. He felt his hand in her hair, the softness of it between his fingers.

Feeling bold, he tugged at her hair, using the way she gasped to his advantage and caught her bottom lip between his teeth.

She lightly pushed him away, a satisfied moan leaving her as her tongue flicked out to sweep across her bottom lip, her hands were flat against his chest.

"I understand why people have built a statue of you," she told him as her hands stretched over his broad chest. Funny, Deacon didn't remember having a chest this wide, or people building a statue of him. Would be nice if someone did.

"And I understand why people revere you, General."

Hmm...maybe he should try calling her that more often. Especially if she were going to look at him like _that._ Pupils burst with desire, the slight shiver that ran down her entire body, the sexiest smile in the goddamn world and that perfect run of teeth. She was a goddess compared to every other woman in the Commonwealth, or the Capital, or anywhere else in the world.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer until her lips hovered over his.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Elder."

Deacon was grateful that his brain woke him up at that exact moment, though he could have done without the simulated heart attack that forced him awake in the first place. He could have also done without his head hitting the desk when his body threw him on his side in a panic.

He shouldn’t be surprised, this wasn’t the first time he’d dreamt about the two of them, but his hallucinations usually consisted of her being tied up against her will, tortured by the Brotherhood as she cried his name, begging for him to come and save her. Deacon had been more concerned with her walking into a trap to think it was anything else…Then she went and said it.

_You know, you’ll feel better once you say it out loud._

_Come on, we’ll all say it together._

_She’s…going…on…a…_

_Date. She’s on a date._

“It isn’t a date,” announced Glory as she sat down next to him. All the voices scoffed at her comment, not believing her in the slightest.

Glory got annoyed by the human race a lot sometimes…Okay, most of the time, but it was rare she got annoyed by her friends. That was also a lie, she got annoyed more at her friends than anyone else, and she was incredibly annoyed, practically infuriated, with Whisper, because she wasn’t the one who had to stick around and clean up the mess.

She hadn’t heard the conversation, but she always suspected it wouldn’t go well, so Glory could understand _why_ Whisper was angry, but did she really have to storm out of HQ and shout to the enter room that she would tell them how her date with Elder Maxson went. Her _date._ Of all things she could have described it as, Whisper chose the one word that would only hurt one person, and, surprisingly, in this particular situation, he hadn’t done anything wrong. As far as Glory was aware anyway.

“She was just pissed at the boss, that’s all.”

Dez was too busy trying to save face, so went back to the file in her hand, pretending the altercation hadn’t happened, and she hadn’t bothered Deacon since, to which Glory was extremely grateful, because not even his sunglasses were helpful in his current condition.

Deacon had been…okay…the last couple of days, but had woken up completely morbid this morning and Glory suspected Deacon knew that _today_ was the day, and what little self control he had anyway evaporated the lower the sun went. 

He’d spent a lot of time on the roof of the church, smoking his zillionth cigarette, and once he was done doing that, he’d taken to sitting on Whisper’s mattress and staring at the escape tunnel door. Glory wasn’t entirely sure why- because she wasn’t coming through it - but it was something he liked to do when he was worried about Whisper.

She was worried too…Okay, not really, but Glory did hope that Whisper would be alright, considering where she was going, regardless of her position with the Minutemen.

“Aint like she’s going in there alone,” pointed out Glory as she inhaled her own cigarette, leaning her head back to rest against the wall.

_That’s true._

_But she is going in a dress specially designed for her_

_Specifically for this…’meeting’._

_When was the last time you saw her dress up for anyone?_

He could ignore that question, considering Whisper dressed up all the time, and just that thought helped keep him from burying his face in his hands.

_Yeah, she wears disguises all the time, but if she were really going as the General of the Minutemen, why didn’t she just wear the uniform?_

Deacon groaned lightly and his chin fell to his chest, but he still had enough self-control to stop his hands from moving away from his legs.

Glory looked at him for a moment, her mouth shrugging with sympathy. She was about to put her hand on his shoulder when he suddenly flinched and sat up straight. Almost as if he’d just rebooted himself.

Deacon confidently reached for another cigarette, lighting it as he held it between his lips. “I ever tell you about the time I had to seduce the Mayor of Goodneighbor?” 

Glory’s jaw dropped uncontrollably, her mouth wide with disbelief.

_Un-fucking-believable._

 

* * * *

 

Several times, throughout her young age, she had been extremely thankful for the makeup tattooed on her face - the time it saved had been worth the pain - but never had she appreciated it more than when she was getting ready this evening. Even what had happened to her hair was appreciated, when it took three times longer than it should to put a dress on.

Preston was determined to run through the plan one more time, more for himself and James than her, and it was his own damn fault he felt so uncomfortable, insisting they have the conversation whilst she got herself ready. 

Truth be told, MacCready played a bigger role in it than she did. 

He was the one who had to undress her, it hadn’t been the first time but it certainly was under this context and it was a weird experience for him; to have her half naked in front of him but not be fucking her. He persevered, moving her body so he could gently take off her clothes and then he had to help her step into her dress. At least she had stopped crying from pain by then, though he could still read it on her face and hear it in her voice every time she replied to Preston’s questions.

She had to sit down after that, she’d gone the palest he’d ever seen her and she had a slight sheen to her as she begun to sweat. MacCready had his doubts that she would even last the journey to the Prydwen.

A light wind danced around the courtyard, bringing a slight chill to the air. Silence had descended upon Fort Independence, save the heavy tap of shoes as two figures made their way to the centre of the courtyard. The taller of the two scowled as the residual sound of her heels echoed across the building, bouncing off the walls and flying back to her ears, making it painfully obvious how awkward her steps were.

"Stop that." MacCready told her for the dozenth time, slapping away the hand rubbing the naked wrist of the arm wrapped around his.

Out of everything she’d put herself through whilst staying in Castle, it was having to go without her Pip-Boy that seemed to be affecting her most. MacCready understood her issue, she'd worn the thing for as long as he knew her, but with the way she was acting, anyone would think she'd lost it forever. When in fact it was safely stored away in her drawer.

"Sorry," she whispered back, not wanting everyone to overhear their conversation. She couldn't have her people thinking she was useless without a brick strapped to her wrist. There was no way she was wearing it whilst on the Prydwen - she doubted she’d ever tell the Brotherhood that particular story - but for some reason, she found it harder being without it than ever before. Perhaps because she couldn't think of a time she’d been this vulnerable without it. What happened to her in Dunwich Borers was a cakewalk compared to this.

She was still putting as much of her weight on her best friend as she could without climbing on him. With the heels on she towered almost a foot above him. She honestly didn't know how Piper managed to walk in them. Though her choice of surface to walk on was the lush grass in the middle of the courtyard, and she could only assume the floor of the Prydwen was far less sturdy than the ground beneath her feet.

"How you doing?" He wondered sincerely but mostly in an attempt to distract her.

"Um...Okay, I guess.” At least she could stand without sweating now. She was hoping that the shivering was down to the chill in the air, and not the buckling of her knees.

“Nervous?" MacCready ran his eyes down her form, the way she clung desperately to him, the way she stood unsure of herself. It had to be the least confident he’d ever seen her, and he could only imagine the vicious scalding she was giving herself.

"More worried," she admitted. "Last thing I want is to fall on my face."

"Or your leg?" He chuckled, nudging her slightly but still keeping a tight grip to stop her from falling.

"Not funny," she informed him, slapping him on the arm for his cheek. Her fingers played with her dress, tracing the thick bandage over her knee. She’d given in to allowing them inject her with Med-X, and half a syringe of Jet just to keep the pressure off. She didn't want to wear the bandage, but it was the only way she could stand without crying, or screaming. It was this, or a splint and she refused to wear one of those, the possibility of Elder Maxson seeing it was already bad enough when it came to the bandage, let alone a piece of wood strapped to her leg.

She forced herself to sigh with relief, reminding herself that they had it all planned. She'd practised enough times with Preston to know they could do it. But she also had a dark feeling that she would trip and fall over the side of the ship. Then things would really go wrong.

“You’ll do better when you’re in the air,” MacCready comforted, his voice breaking through the void she’d suck into. MacCready readjusted his grip on her to take even more pressure off her leg.

“And when I’ll have Preston,” she retorted. Her chin reached the top of his cap, and it gave her an uneasy feeling. But she had no choice, there were parts of her plan she refused to change, even if her leg was completely screwed.

“How long now?” she asked, changing the conversation.

“About five minutes,” answered Preston, coming up behind them. “You okay, General?”

“As good as I can be in my state.” The pain was still there, though more bearable than it ever had been. But she was tired already - she blamed the Jet for that - and she wasn’t looking forward to trying to get into the Vertibird; she figured it was going to be a nightmare of its own.

She was partially right, but the only nightmare was inside her head. James went first, turning and holding out his hand for her to take, she took it and made one step onto the Vertibird with her good leg, whilst Preston pushed her up the rest of the way, luckily at an angle where no one noticed. Externally it was flawless, internally it was mortifying, and other than a muttered ‘Thank you’ she said nothing else. 

Preston was stoically quiet, James was completely out of his element and she spent the entire journey to the Airport distracting herself by staring out the door. She tore her gaze away from the sky to stare down at the city below them. Despite all the destruction, it was amazing to look at, and she wished, when she had the chance, she’d taken more helicopter rides. 

As Boston Airport came into view her blood went cold, and suddenly she realised exactly why she hadn’t been anywhere near the place since leaving the Vault. Her hands tightened around the edge of the seat, her knuckles turning white as the voices leaked into her head. This was the last thing she needed.

She could feel Preston’s eyes on her as she stared at the bottom of the Vertibird, he knew how important this meeting was, not just to her and the Minutemen, but the Commonwealth as a whole. At that moment, however, she could only focus on how hot she was underneath her hood, ignoring the throbbing of her knee. It would be worth it, she decided, as long as she didn’t pass out. She shook her head at herself, all of this for dramatic effect, and she was sure she didn’t even go to this much effort when she met Nathaniel for the first time. At least she wasn’t going there to convince the Elder to fall in love with her. She didn’t have the strength to do something like that again.

She knew she had the upper hand, she also knew the Elder would believe the same, simply because of where they were meeting, but it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. He didn’t know anything about her - she hoped - and she knew more about him than most of the Brotherhood probably did, simply because of her best friend and his desire to tell her all the dirty secrets he knew about the man. In her opinion, MacCready had used it as an excuse to bitch about someone he didn’t like all that much, but he’d told her more than she actually planned to use against him. Mostly the cruel things he did as a kid.

She finally noticed the Prydwen and a faint smile crept over her face. She wondered if the name was intentional; the Elder was called ‘Arthur’ after all - but she also wondered if the man knew what the name meant. If he did, the Elder’s ego was bigger than she had been anticipating. 

The Vertibird docked, shuddering as it connected with the ship, and she stopped Preston from standing up before her. As General, he needed to be the last one to dismount. James went first, once again holding out his hand for her to take as she carefully descended. She held onto him with bone-crushing force and heard him wince before she practically jumped into him, hoping it didn’t look as ridiculous as she suspected. 

She slipped her arm around his, instantly leaning into him. They’d practised a few times, so he compensated the additional weight well - not that there was much for him to deal with - but it was even more important now, because she hadn’t expected the balcony to be so small, especially since people stomped around wearing power armour. If she wasn’t careful, her heels would get stuck in the small grates of the balcony underneath her.

Preston looked moderately uncomfortable, not entirely sure how to act as they treated him as if he were in charge. Despite the discomfort she was beginning to feel, on the inside she was laughing. Her General’s coat suited him well, fitting him better than it ever did her - because she never bothered to alter it - and she wondered if wearing it would open Preston’s mind up to the idea of leading the Minuteman officially. He wouldn’t have a choice if the worst happened whilst she was trekking through the Glowing Sea. But she couldn’t think about that, not here, not yet.

Two soldiers clad in power armour guarded the door, opening it when they noticed the presence of their visitors. She kept her eyes on the ground and her weight on James as she stepped over the threshold.

The first thing that met her gaze was a set of descending stairs. She noticed the terminal systems and controls, a few people sat at their stations, she quickly deduced that they were in charge of keeping the Prydwen in the air. She lifted her head, carefully shielding her face with her hood. She’d been expecting more people, though she suspected it was intentional, but the lack of noise just made the sound of her shoes echo against the walls, making her the loudest thing in the entire ship, and it made her realised just how out of rhythm her left leg was. 

A large expanse of wooden flooring opened out in front of her and she saw three people stood ahead of them on the other side of the room, the Elder clearly stood in the middle. To his right, there stood a man wearing a power suit and her eyes widened when she recognised him. There was a small window of his face, and she had been at a distance, but she knew it was him. There was no way he would recognise her, she didn’t hang around long enough for him to get a look at her face, but there was still a chance. The other gentleman was wearing an outfit she’d never seen before, it wasn’t bulky enough to be considered armour but it was too thick to just be clothing. He was older, slightly less threatening in appearance - his features softer - and she knew his presence was just as intentional as everything else.

Then she focused her entire attention on the Elder, her mouth shrugging, and her head bobbing as she took in every chiseled, handsome feature of his face. Okay, so maybe he had a reason to have a big ego. She was astounded by how young he was too, the thickness of his beard helping him appear older than he actually was, though she couldn’t judge him over his age. He became Elder when he was sixteen, MacCready telling her that he was the youngest in history, and whilst she admired that about him, she also knew it wasn’t his choice. In that respect, the two of them had something in common. It would be nice to get to know him as a person, as a man rather than a leader. 

Instinctively, Preston’s head moved slightly in her direction as the Elder took a step forward but he didn’t move. James and herself stepped closer to Preston, making what was about to come next easier on her, and the knowledge of it twisted her stomach. It would be interesting to imagine where she would be in her life right now if she had found the Brotherhood before the Minutemen, or before the Railroad.

Arthur won’t lie, he was expecting _more_. The General was tall, just as Arthur had suspected, but other than that, there was nothing extraordinary about him. The Elder wasn’t quite sure _what_ he was expecting, but he wondered how this plain looking man could have done as much as he had.

“General.” He bowed his head in greeting, stretching out a hand for the man to shake. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Preston replied, meeting him in a handshake. “But actually, it’s Lieutenant.” 

The Elder’s brow furrowed in confusion and his attention was drawn to the other man stood just behind him.

If there were ever a time for her shoes to be quiet, it was now.

“ _This_ is the General.” The Lieutenant moved to one side and gestured to the cloaked figure behind him Arthur had barely noticed. 

The figure edged towards him and a moment later he was blinded by a bright light and his hand was almost crushed by the strong grip another hand had on it.

She could have kicked herself, if she knew it wouldn't absolutely destroy her. One wrong move, one miscalculated step and she almost fell first into the Elder's firm body. Luckily Preston noticed and grabbed the back of her dress in time and although she may have crushed several bones in the Elder's hand, she was sure she recovered well. 

“Elder Maxson, I’m delighted to meet you.”

His brow furrowed at the feminine voice that reached his ears, and the realisation of their mistake was like a slap to the face. The General of the Minutemen was a woman. As his eyes acclimatised to the light, and he rubbed his sore hand, he had to stop his jaw from going lax as the General came into focus. Behind him, he heard the gasp of surprise that left Quinlan, even the always stoically quiet Danse made a noise of appreciation. 

The General wasn’t just any old woman, she was beautiful. Dark red, full, lips - she was wearing a lot of make-up actually. She was young, though he could hardly judge. She looked almost innocent, even with her glowing hair…Was that the whole point of her or was this a cruel joke?

This piece of information was put on the list of things he was going to punish someone for, but this went right to the top. The intel they had was minimal, they’d simply been _assuming_ the General of the Minutemen was a man and Arthur was ready to give them hell for it. He could not have been more embarrassed, his letter had addressed her as a man. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. He had known plenty of strong women in the past…a lot of them were leaders in their own way. But they looked a bit more war-torn than the woman in front of him.

She felt bad (but also proud) when she noticed him rubbing his hand in discomfort and the slight pained look that flashed on his face for a moment. He wouldn't say anything about it, it was not the nature of the person in charge to show weakness.

“Thank you for arranging this meeting," she used her normal voice, having disregarded her original plan to make herself sound more like Nora, she was sure she didn’t have the energy to keep up the pretence. She smiled wide, flashing him the run of perfectly straight, white teeth she had and noted the surprised expression on his face. He'd better get used to pulling that face, she thought, there were more surprises in store for him this evening.

"And thank you for the Vertibird, I imagine we would have got lost otherwise."

She enjoyed the confused expression on his face, wondering why she was thanking him for something she demanded in the first place. It was enough to cement the knowledge her previous slip up had gone unnoticed. She could breathe a sigh of relief, it was working out thus far.

"You're most welcome.” Once he got over his initial shock, Arthur allowed a soft smile to creep over his face.

He was a little younger than MacCready, and if her best friend hadn't told her this fact, she wouldn't have believed that the Elder was only twenty years old. Though she supposed the beard had something to do with it, which was no doubt intentional on his part. She imagined he tried to make himself look as old as possible. She could sympathise, she knew how difficult it was for people to see passed the lack of years she'd lived. Although, in the Commonwealth, she had almost everyone beat, just not a lot of people knew that, and she wasn't about to go announcing it all over the Prydwen.

“You wouldn’t mind getting a girl a drink, would you?” Her mouth pouted just slightly and her eyelids fluttered.

Intentional or accidental…Arthur wasn’t sure.

“It was a long journey.” Shel didn’t take her eyes off him as her hands reached up to untie the black cloak around her neck, she focused on every part of him she could as she ignored the pain that surged through her suddenly. “But the view was incredible.”

She smiled through her pain as she reached behind her and passed her cloak to Preston. No one moved and she resisted the urge to frown, she couldn’t have shocked him _that_ much.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation in your office?" She suggested, mostly because she really needed to sit down.

Arthur nodded and silently gestured towards the ladder, wondering how she’d feel climbing down that thing in a dress so elegant. But she smiled, taking his hand as he guided her, inviting her to go first. It wouldn’t have been his ideal choice, to leave her unattended, even for a few seconds, but he figured it would look better than her following him, in case she thought he would be looking at her body as she descended.

She was smiling but on the inside she was screaming. She was going to have to climb down a ladder.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

She had two choices, slide down the ladder and break both ankles, or climb down and break at least one ankle. She had to go first, that much was non-negotiable because the Elder would see way too much if he stood at the bottom of the ladder waiting for her. Far too much than she was comfortable with.

Arthur had planned for them to speak in his office, away from prying eyes, but his entire plan for the evening was thrown into disarray now he knew it was a woman leading the Minutemen. Would she be comfortable enough talking in a room that also acted as his quarters?

He had to figure it was part of the plan, why she never corrected his letters. Even going as far as to make it look as though her Lieutenant was in charge. Arthur knew, it that moment, he was dealing with a very clever woman, and the entire plan he’d had in his head was throw into disarray because of this realisation. He began to question every move he made this evening.

She put all her weight on her arms the moment she could, she kept her injured leg slightly bent, keeping her foot away from the ladder and only used her other foot to give her arms a break. She took her time, the last thing she needed was to break out in a sweat.

She supported herself against the ladder, waiting for the Elder to descend, huffing when she had to stand on her own two feet for a moment, trying to take herself away from the ladder with as much flair as she could muster. That was about as tiring as she'd been expecting, and she already regretted leaving Preston and James up top.

When they reached the lower level Arthur realised that only the two of them had descended. He didn’t expect Danse or Quinlan to follow, in fact they were told not to, but he was honestly surprised that her Lieutenant had not followed.

“Your Lieutenant,” he began, looking up at the hole leading to the foredeck. “Is he not coming?”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “Unless you’re planning on killing me in your study,” and she had a contingency plan if that were the case, “there’s no real reason for him to come. This is simply one leader speaking to another, it has nothing to do with the Minutemen or the Brotherhood.” She linked her arm with his and decided that she could support her own weight for the short distance. 

He held the door open for her, gesturing for her to enter before him, and she was glad for the opportunity to let her pain show on her face when she was turned away from him.

When she didn’t blush at the gesture, her mind quickly flashed back to Deacon. Why was he the only person who could invoke that reaction out of her? She hoped he was okay, hoped Glory was keeping him calm. She would have to apologise to the both of them. Then her mind wandered to the rest of the Railroad. She was going to have to tell Desdemona about how this meeting went, and she was eventually going to have to tell her about the Glowing Sea. Deacon was right, it wasn’t just about her. Everyone would be impacted if she found a way into the Institute. But she had to trust them first. If the Brotherhood posed no threat, then she would tell them. Eventually. But one step at a time.

Arthur closed the door behind them and watched as she looked around his quarters. He watched her admire the medals that hung on the wall, and then spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

Strewn across his desk, positioned as lazily as it had been since he threw it there, was the towel he had used after his shave. He used the fact she was distracted to his advantage and carefully made his way over to his desk. He looked at her, still staring around the room, as his hand reached for the towel. He threw it over his desk and scowled in annoyance when it caught on his chair. Arthur gave the General another quick glance as he circled around his desk.

It was amusing to watch him, and it helped keep her distracted from the numbing pain in her leg. Perhaps she should have gone for an entire syringe of Jet after all. She eyed the chair on the opposite side of his desk and tried not to be too loud when she sighed with relief.

Arthur hid the towel under his desk, turning his body to sit down in his chair. He quickly looked up when he heard a sudden thud and found the General almost nose to nose with him.

She resisted the urge to cry at the surge of pain she'd caused herself, biting her lip to stop herself from screaming. She underestimated the proximity of the chair leg and accidentally kicked it with her bad leg. She fell forwards, bracing herself on the Elder's desk and she only had so much time to recover before he was looking at her.

“Nice ship by the way,” the smile she gave him would melt a lesser heart, “and you certainly know how to make an entrance.” Her eyelids fluttered when she sat down, the relief indescribable.

He breathed a laugh, a small, natural smile forming across his face. “Seems I’m not the only one, General.”

“Had to get back at you for that ‘man-to-man’ comment.” She realised, at the confused look on his face, he had no idea what she was talking about. She relaxed further back into the chair, placed her arms on the arms of the chair and positioned her leg in the least uncomfortable way she could, but it caused her chest to push out and she knew exactly how it looked from the Elder’s point of view.

She still adored Daisy for what she had done for her and she was glad she ultimately decided on the dress she was wearing. Just like everyone else who had seen her face, Maxson was a little tongue tied and she suspected it was a rare occurrence for a man who commanded hundreds of people, all of them bowing at his feet. 

His mouth opened beyond his control and he resisted the urge to groan and bury his face in his hands. Man to man. Had someone seriously said that?

“Forgive me,” he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with her relaxed, somewhat flirty tone and she tried not to smile too widely. “None of the research indicated that the General of the Minutemen was a woman. I apologise for that personally.”

And he was going to kick them all the way back to the Capital for such a mistake. It was beneath the Brotherhood to allow information like that to fall through the cracks.

“That was by design, but thank you, for your apology.”

She shuffled closer to the edge of the chair, her hair rising above her as she slipped down the back of the chair and she put her finger to her lip. He could feel her eyes studying him. 

“You know, we have something in common,” the finger that was on her lip moved to her cheekbone as she moved her hand to cradle her face, she was making herself look extremely comfortable in his presence but her eyes were dissecting him, and Arthur felt as though she was reading his very soul.

“We do?” he asked quizzically.

“We have both been forced to wear crowns, a little too big for our youthful heads.”

“Forced?” It was never a word he would use to describe his position. He was bred to do this, becoming Elder had been his destiny since the moment he was born. He never imagined himself doing anything else.

“The blood of a leader flows through your veins,” she told him. “I was granted this honour after one _extremely_ stubborn man wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Her eyes drifted off to the side, her mind wandering to Preston. She hoped he was okay. At least James was up there to keep him company. “The need to do the right thing and protect those who cannot protect themselves, it comes naturally to the both of us. People instil their faith and their trust in us without really knowing who we are. To be anything less than extraordinary is unacceptable. It is a burden we bear as the people in charge.”

It was nice to get some of it off her chest, if she were being honest. It was a conversation she could easily have with Desdemona, if she could find herself having more respect for the woman,

“The Minutemen seem to have come a long way since under your guidance.”

She couldn’t control the sigh that left her, this time one that wasn’t from pain. It was amazing how much people thought she’d done. “Truth be told, it is the people ‘ _below_ ’ me who guide the most. I just had to show them the way.” The greatest thing she did was give Preston his hope back, and hire Sam. Those two alone could run the entire organisation. They pretty much were. “You must get that, watching squires walk around the place knowing that, although they won’t be taught by you personally, they’ll learn the lessons you have given them.”

“To be in it, but not of it.”

She smiled at his phrase. “And people wonder why our jobs are so difficult.”

He reciprocated her smile, his eyes catching a glimpse of the perfect run of glistening white teeth between her blood stained lips. It was nice to be in the company of someone whom understood the pressures of being at the top. He had to agree with her too. The Brotherhood were very well established by the time he came to power, and although he still had to work hard to turn them back in the ‘right’ direction, they didn’t need him as much as they thought.

He was almost afraid to ask how old she really was, though the way the question nipped at him was like a deathclaw talon to the brain. She had to be of similar age to him, of that he had no doubt, but she didn’t look nearly as tired as he did, and she probably had to work harder than him to get the Minutemen in the position they were currently sat in.

Beautiful. As in out of this world beautiful. Maxson was never one for boasting but he had been with his fair share of women and he could honestly, hand on heart, say he’d never seen a woman like the one sat in front of him. Before his mind got too far away, he cleared his throat, ready to move on to business. 

“You must have realised by now why I sent you that letter,” he began, leaning forward over the desk to rest his chin on his propped up arms.

She sat up and placed her hand in the air, palm facing him in a gesture to stop. It was awkward, and she regretted removing herself from her comfortable position, but it was necessary. Just as she had told Preston, she had no intention of discussing the future of the Commonwealth during the first meeting. They had to get to know each other first.

“I prefer not to discuss business on the first date,” she announced, her own eyes widening at the word. She really needed to stop calling it that. “I know perfectly well why you did but a few things must happen before we even begin to discuss it.”

Her lip slipped between her teeth, falling away slowly as she stared intensely at the Elder. He really was nice to look at. He’d been watching her, that much was obvious, each of them were sizing the other up. She hoped the fact she was a woman would make him believe she was weaker than him, but she’d definitely been through more shit than he had.

She wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Despite being trained from a young age to become Elder, she doubted his childhood was anything like hers. His title, his position in the world, none of it scared her. She’d met far more terrifying people in her life, worse than the entire Brotherhood combined. The adrenaline pounding through her was just enough to make her like the idea of having to fight her way out. Though she did worry about Preston.

“What must happen?” He suddenly looked very uncomfortable and she found herself feeling almost sorry for him. A part of her wanted to tell him to stop being nervous, as far as the Elder should be concerned, she was the sweetest, nicest thing on the ship.

“I think it’s only fair that you see what the Minutemen has to offer. After all, that is your intention, is it not? To show me what I’d be up against if I ever went against you?”

Because now she’d actually seen Castle completely rebuilt she knew it was something worth bragging about. Of course she had nothing to do it, short of clearing Castle in the first place. Everything after that was down to Preston. A smile crept over her face, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. The man was more important to her, and the rest of the Commonwealth, than she’d realised until that moment.

Maxson went to speak but she cut him off once more, the Elder didn’t think it possible for someone to do it so politely. 

“But as I said, I’m not here to speak business.”

He nodded, accepting her terms, but was suddenly unsure as to what to do next. He’d had a whole speech prepared and everything.

A small grimace was on her face when the Elder stood up. She knew this was going to happen eventually, but she was already exhausted. Her hand was reluctantly waiting for him before he decided to reach for her. They shared a smile, hers completely false, and the Elder took a firm hold of her petite hand as he helped her to stand.

“Can you walk in those?” He wondered, his eyes falling to her feet as she hung onto his arm.

She laughed lightly, following him out of the room. “Well enough, but don’t think too much of it if I end up falling into you.”

A shiver ran down her spine. It still got her; lying by telling the truth. These moments were even more satisfying when it was completely unintentional.

“I promise I won’t.” 

When MacCready described where the Citadel was she knew automatically what building in Washington the Brotherhood were residing in. She’d been inside once, so long ago she could hardly remember it, but she recalled almost getting lost. They were living in a giant office block, their mode of transportation was a huge metal _blimp._

The first thing she noticed - besides the serious lack of people - was how cold it was, of course temperature wise she found herself wishing she’d kept the cloak on, but it was more of a case of the atmosphere. She supposed the metal casing of the ship didn’t help, but even the complex she grew up in felt more homely and she honestly couldn’t imagine children - _squires -_ enjoying themselves.

She supposed that was the point, they aren’t supposed to be enjoying themselves, but she guessed it was one of the things that differed between the Brotherhood and the Minutemen. Of course she liked the fact children were running around their homes, telling everyone they were going to join the Minutemen, but it never even occurred to her or Preston (as far as she knew) to start training children. Maybe…

No. She closed her eyes, shaking the thought away. It wasn’t an option. Life in the Commonwealth was shitty enough; kids deserved the chance to be kids. She supposed Brotherhood ideals were drummed into every child born within the walls of the Citadel. Again, it was just an example of how vastly different the two factions were. The Minutemen didn't have ‘ideals’ as it were, what they wanted for the world was what everyone should want anyway. To live and let live. To be able to wake up and not fear for your life. To eat and drink whenever the need strikes. To live, not just survive. 

The Prydwen was definitely still impressive though, despite all that. She’d never been inside a blimp, though she felt if she called it that out loud she’d be shot on the spot. The Elder was proud, more of the organisation as a whole than himself. He happily took her through the history of the Brotherhood and she hid her surprise that it was founded by someone from her time, someone who survived the end of the world and made sure other people did too. It was almost a shame she didn’t know who Roger Maxson was, it would be a nice bomb to drop in the future if she did.

They kept eye contact with each other with every word spoken, their peripherals doing the studying for them. She noticed him relax, a wave of joy washing over him as they came across more soldiers. Being alone in his room together may have had more of an impact on him than she thought. Talking to him helped distract from how tired she felt, her foot was lagging and she progressively put more of her weight on the Elder as they continued the tour.

“Tell me, how did you come to be the General of the Minutemen, if you did so little work?” He asked as he took her to the top rafter so she could look down at the entire floor of the Prydwen. She adored the chance to lean against the railing, taking all weight off her left leg and putting it on her right, she compensated that weight but tightening her folded arms against the railing. 

“My Lieutenant, the man you met upstairs,” she smiled, she hoped he was still okay, and that he wasn’t worrying about her safety, “is-well, _was_ the last of the Minutemen. We met very early on when I saved his life,” along with several other people but the Elder didn’t need to know the details. “He asked for my help, and I gave it to him. I helped a few settlements, told them I was part of the Minutemen,” because she was sent by a Minuteman, “and eventually everyone started to have faith again.”

“It is amazing what people can do when they have something to believe in, isn’t it?” The Elder said, almost dreamily, his eyes staring out in front of him as his mind took him back to what she was guessing was a simpler time.

“I’m curious about something,” her breath came out slightly fractured, a sting of pain overriding the quickly wearing off side effects of the Jet.

“Hmm?” He raised his eyebrow, turning back to face her properly. He relaxed around her, casually leaning on the railing, his feet crossed at the ankle. She arched her back to relieve some of the pressure, her ass pointing in the air. She smiled to herself when the Elder’s eyes flicked to the notion. It’s always nice to be appreciated.

“What _did_ your team find out?”

He sighed in defeat, a little frustration mixed in.

“Mainly that there was a General of the Minutemen and almost every settlement was affiliated with them.”

“It isn’t almost every settlement, it _is_ every settlement,” she correctly pointedly, though a soft smile took the bite out of her tone. “But there is a reason ‘my’ people didn’t tell you anything.” His face lit up with intrigue. “It’s because most of them _don’t_ know anything. Of course, all Minutemen _soldiers_ know who I am, but the majority of people in settlements don’t know the woman they allow to stay in their homes is their General.”

“Why the secrecy?” He wondered.

She sighed, trying to think of an answer other than ‘secrecy is my life’.

“Because I’m not just the General of the Minutemen. I can’t bear the idea of people being enamoured by me, just because of a title I don’t even deserve. I suppose that is the difference between you and I, you were always meant to do this,” she gestured around the ship. “And I was never meant to be here.”

“You’re not from the Commonwealth?”

The words slipped before she could stop them, she blamed her exhaustion for that, she needed to end this line of questioning and fast.

“Originally, yes, but it’s been years,” hundreds of, “since I’ve been here. A lot has changed, and it wasn’t for the better. Fixing the Commonwealth was not my reason for coming back, but I have ended up trying to doing that regardless.”

“You’ve travelled then?”

“Wandered,” she corrected. “I always felt the world was too big to stay in one place for a long time.”

The conversations continued, each one slipping away from work obligations and venturing into who they were as people. She kept herself close to the vest, choosing her words carefully but revealing just enough to make it sound as though she was telling him her life story. She felt her unease at the Brotherhood’s presence melting away. She may not know what life was like in the Capital but the Elder seemed nice enough. She trusted that he wouldn’t harm any of her settlements, and laced in between the military terms and well spoken language was a man who wanted to help. She realised that the problem wasn’t with the Elder himself, it was with the organisation itself. If they worked anything like the government system in the US then a large majority could overrule any decision the Elder made.

“So, what do you think?” he wondered when they had finally gone full circle, she had seen every part of the Prydwen now, and met with the department heads. At least the ones who decided to calm down after all.

"It's nice," she replied, her voice more airy than she would like and when she let out a long breath she knew her face did not match her words. “Impressive."

The Elder’s brow furrowed, noting the defeated looked on the General’s face. She hadn’t looked like that when they started.

"You do not seem happy."

"It isn't a reflection on you.” It really wasn’t. “I am just exhausted."

"Perhaps it is the shoes."

"They're certainly not helping." She groaned, pulling away from him to grab the ladder for support. Her other hand crept down to pull at her dress and the Elder watched the movement with curiosity, wondering exactly what she was doing. She pulled the side of her dress up high enough to reveal the long winding bandage wrapped around her leg, covering most of her calf, all the way up to her thigh. Arthur's eyes bulged with surprise, he may not know anything about this woman but he knew her knee was not the size it was supposed to be. "Got myself into a spot of bother."

"How long have you been suffering?" Because she had to be suffering, walking around on shoes like those with an injury like that.

"A few days.” She shrugged but the weak smile on her face did not reach her eyes.

"Why on earth are you not resting?” He could not take his gaze away from the bandage, the desire to rush back to Cade was there. Why on earth hadn’t she said something when the two of them met?

She raised an eyebrow and dramatically gestured around them. "Because I am here."

"You could have cancelled."

"I really couldn’t.” She lightly shook her head. “I only got back to Castle yesterday and by then I deemed it too late for me to contact you. I didn't want to just not turn up," she admitted, leaving out her reasons for why she didn't want to risk it.

"I somehow feel honoured that you have gone through this for this evening."

"That's nice, but unnecessary. In truth, I did it because I'd already put in a lot of planning and I'm too stubborn to change my mind sometimes."

"It really was that important to you?"

She nodded, finally letting go of her dress and placing her foot back on the floor. Her hands were still clinging to the ladder. "It would have been nice if it were perfect. A lot of people helped me for today, it seemed only right to put their effort to the use it was supposed to. How many things have screwed up for you?" She wondered, knowing of at least two.

"Well, you being a woman is the biggest one, but not too many."

She smiled. "I was hoping so, in the interest of being honest. It's nice to know you didn't know about it, but that man to man comment has been bothering me since I first read it. It's the main reason I have gone through so much effort."

"I can only apologise.”His expression truly apologetic. She’d clearly put herself through a lot to make this meeting as perfect as she could.

"And you have done, several times, but it is not you whom needs to apologise. Assumptions are something no one should have when running an army. Assumptions are the reason so many people worry about your presence here.”

She had no desire to continue this conversation, not at present at least. She was tired and had to figure out just when the hell she was going to invite the Elder to Castle. It would make sense to do it before she went into the Glowing Sea, but she knew it was just an excuse, like everything else had been. She had a point though, if she died in the Glowing Sea, the Elder would never be invited to Castle, he would never know why and he might, just maybe, consider it a hostile action. She pushed down the thought, reading those letters had screwed her up more than she thought.

Their friendship had reached an entirely different level when they were ascending the ladder. Just in case the worst happened and she slipped, they mutually decided it was better for her to go first, knowing James would be at the top to support her the rest of the way. She could only imagine the eyeful he got, coming up behind her.

By the time the conversation about his visit arose they were saying goodbye, and she’d managed to figure out a diplomatic answer. She smiled, hiding her blush, when the Elder kissed the back of her hand. His boyish, cheeky eyes looking up at her.

“I’ll write to you,” the words flowed out of her mouth like honey as she slipped her hand out of his grasp. She allowed Preston to place her cloak on her shoulders, her own hands reaching up to tie it. James held the door open for both her and Preston but before she stepped over the threshold she took hold of her hood and turned back to look at the Elder. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”

She saw him blink with surprise at the use of his name, pulled her hood over her head and walked out of the Prydwen and toward the vertibird waiting to take them back to Castle.

“How did it go?” Preston asked when they were on the walkway, taking over from James and walking beside her.

“It was very productive,” she informed him, securing her arm in his when she almost lost her footing. “I think it’s going to be a very good relationship.”

“Well, thank you for leaving me upstairs for three hours anyway,” his voice laced with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “And you’re probably going to hate me even more,” she told him as they stood in front of the vertibird.

“Why?” He asked, offering her his hand to support her climb into the vertibird, James taking hold of her other.

“Because we’re going to have guests at Castle.”

The soft expression on Preston’s face melted away and all the colour drained from his face. She’d never seen him look so terrified, and she’d met him whilst he was being threatened by a dozen raiders, followed by a Deathclaw.

“Breathe, Preston,” she reminded him as he sat down in front of her, his eyes wide as though he’d just a ghost. “It’s all going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I never intended to put Deacon in this, but it was pointed out to me that he has not been in this for a few chapters (:o I know). Deacon probably will get left out when it comes to our SS dealing with the Brotherhood quite a fair amount, because we don't want that sneaky lil spy anywhere near the Airport.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading xx

**Author's Note:**

> I will die writing this, I cannot help myself. There's so much I want these crazy kids to go through...we're going to be here forever.
> 
> A lot of my own personal feelings seep their way into my writing, hence why my writing style changes throughout. I seem to grow alongside my SS and regress with her too, bear with us, we're still learning.


End file.
